Everything You Can Never Be
by DarkAngelElektra
Summary: As the rookie Diva on Raw, Ashley Massaro just wants to fit in. She doesn't anticipate falling for Randy Orton-or being pulled into his feud with the Undertaker. Ashley/Randy pairing, also features Matt Hardy, Trish Stratus, and others circa 2005.
1. Chapter 1: Diva Initiation

**A/N: This was just a little idea for a story that I've been kicking around in my head, and I finally got around to writing a chapter. Not sure when I'll update it, since I'm trying to finish another story, but I will keep on it. I wrote this partly as a personal challenge to myself: I wanted to see if I can write a story where Randy Orton is a decent human being (because he's more or less the Antichrist in my other one). Also, I really wanted to write a story with the Undertaker. And Ashley Massaro, 'cause she's badass. So, read, enjoy, and hopefully review! Peace!**

**A/A/N: This story takes place from August to December of 2005**

* * *

**Everything You Can Never Be**

Chapter 1: Diva Initiation

_SummerSlam 2005_

"Okay, girls, that's a wrap!" Stephanie McMahon called out from her vantage point a few feet behind the cameraman. Her blue eyes swept over the scene critically, searching for any details she might have missed. Satisfied that nothing had escaped her notice, she pressed her lips together and bobbed her head in a small nod, indicating that the promo was indeed finished. "Good job, everyone!" she added absently, before becoming lost in the group of writers and crew members who swarmed on her almost immediately.

The six Divas surrounding the soaped-up limousine relaxed; breaking away from their assembly line positions into small groups, discarding their wet sponges and chatting eagerly.

All except one.

Ashley Massaro tossed her sponge into a nearby bucket of water, rotating her body to lean back against the limo. She sighed, reaching up with one hand to run her fingers through her black-streaked blond hair. She was probably going to get suds in it, but she didn't really care. This scant minute and a half of footage would mark her sole appearance at SummerSlam; who was going to notice a little soap?

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest, surveying the bustle of activity around her. She had been declared the winner of the Raw Diva Search exactly six days ago, and she had yet to felt any real sensation of happiness. Oh, sure, there was the elation she'd experienced when she'd heard her name announced, the roller coaster of emotion that had possessed her until the early hours of the following morning. She remembered very little about the night, only the feeling and the sound of her cell phone ringer going off as fans called to offer congratulations. But as the days went by, that euphoria had slowly dissipated, doubt taking its place. By the time she arrived at the arena this afternoon, Ashley had been a nervous wreck. And when she had out that her first official act as a WWE Diva would be to don a bikini and wash a car…it had been hard to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

She shouldn't have been surprised, she told herself. After all, every Diva there was a piece of eye candy first and a wrestler second, and as the rookie, she didn't really have a choice. She couldn't expect to just show up and magically be declared the next number one contender. But logic couldn't really dispel the overwhelming desire she felt to get in that ring and compete, to show everyone that she was more than just a pretty face, that she could be beautiful _and_ strong.

Too bad she was the only one who thought so.

Ashley had met several of the Superstars, from both brands, in the few hours she'd been here. Some had been polite, some had been rude, and some had been downright creepy, but no matter what their response, she'd glimpsed the same thought, the same critique in their eyes: _Eye candy, definitely_.

The Divas hadn't been much better. The moment she'd stepped in the locker room, all their chatter had faded into silence as one by one, they turned to stare at her like some exhibit you'd see at the zoo. Ashley could sense them taking in the various unusual facets of her appearance: the black highlights, the tattoo, the piercing in her upper lip. And even though there had been nothing in their faces to indicate criticism, she could almost hear the thoughts circulating in the air above them: _God, what were the fans thinking_?

Ashley knew that she shouldn't mind. After all, she had gone through this kind of shit in high school; the cliques, the snap judgments people make about someone. She had always been the rebel, the punk chick, the tomboy. She knew that she wasn't the traditional definition of pretty, and for some reason, some girls took offense at that. She had never let it bother her, because unlike those shallow empty bitches out there, she actually knew and liked who she was.

But this was different. Walking into that room and knowing instinctively that all the other women in there were quietly judging her—Ashley would have been lying if she said that it hadn't hurt. She guessed it would be just another thing that she would have to prove—that she could be a WWE Diva, period. It just needled her, this need, this craving, this almost painful ache to be not just liked or respected, but _accepted_. It seemed so juvenile, and she hated the fact that she could succumb to it just like everyone else.

For not the first time, Ashley found herself missing the company of the other Diva Search girls. Sure, they had all been competitors, but they were all in the same boat, more or less, and at the end of the day, all they had really had was each other. Ashley wished that Kristal or Elizabeth could have been here with her; anything to make that first locker room appearance more bearable. The three of them had become particularly close during the competition, and as each week went by, Ashley found herself dreading that fateful Monday when one of them would inevitably have to go home. First it had been Kristal, then Elizabeth, and then suddenly Ashley had found herself a quarter of a million dollars richer...and alone. She was the Raw Diva Search winner of 2005…but at the expense of her friends.

Like they always said, it was lonely at the top, and so far, Ashley had not found anyone willing to forge a friendship with her. Even Christy Hemme and Maria Kanellis had come across as distant, as though by befriending her, they would be moving down a step in the locker room ranking. Ashley found this extremely hypocritical. More than anyone else, they should understand what it was like to be the new girl, the rookie, in a room full of seasoned Divas.

Ashley mentally rolled her eyes. Whatever. If those two wanted to be stuck-up bitches just because they'd been with the company for a year, so be it. But she wasn't about to start kissing their asses to make them like her.

The rookie Diva rubbed her forearms briskly, shivering a little in the cool air of the parking garage. She'd been out here in a skimpy bathing suit for long enough; time to go back to the locker room and throw on some real clothes. Ashley mentally retraced the return route, turned to go—and then groaned when she saw the two figures coming rapidly towards her.

Candice Michelle had been blessed with one of those faces that make just about any emotion—no matter how ugly—absolutely gorgeous. Right now, the one gracing her delicate features was pure disdain, and even Ashley had to admit that she wore it well. The brunette ground to a halt a few feet from Ashley, fellow SmackDown Diva Torrie Wilson just behind her.

Ashley had only known Candice for two hours, but it hadn't taken her very long to witness the other Diva's true colors. Behind that exotic face, Candice was nothing more than a spoiled selfish whiny little bitch with a penchant for temper tantrums. From the way she'd been cozying up to Vince McMahon before the shoot, Ashley was willing to add "golddigger" to that list as well. For some reason, she'd taken an instant dislike to the Diva Search winner, and had spent every minute since then being deliberately catty. Ashley really didn't give a damn about what Candice thought of her, but the SmackDown Diva was starting to piss her off with her petty bullshit. The rookie Diva braced herself for the inevitable "Mean Girls" moment.

She couldn't help but notice that the brunette Diva still had her sponge in hand, and she was right to. Abruptly, Candice reared back and chucked it at Ashley with surprisingly good aim, catching the rookie Diva square in the chest.

Ashley involuntarily gasped as the sopping wet rectangle slapped against her skin. It slid off her with almost deliberate slowness, landing on the floor with a SPLAT. Ashley could feel cold water trickling down her chest and abdomen, seeping into her bikini top. Great, and she was wearing white too…she might as well walk around topless from now on.

She looked back up at Candice, her eyes blazing with sudden anger. "What the hell is your problem?" she demanded furiously.

Candice's scornful expression deepened into a scowl. "_My_ problem?" she repeated. "Six takes, _six takes_, before Steph finally says okay. _Six takes_…for a fricking minute of your pathetic life." She took a step toward Ashley, her dark eyes full of derision. "Any idiot can wash a car—what the hell were _you_ doing?"

Ashley looked off to the side, wanting to scream. It had been like this for the past two hours: Candice getting on her case for all sorts of inane stupid shit. Even if the promo shoot had gone perfectly, Candice still would have found a reason to complain—and a reason to blame it on Ashley. The rookie Diva rolled her eyes, thanking God that at least they were on different brands.

She threw her hands up in the air. "You know what, Candice?" she replied, her voice exasperated. "You're right; it was _all_ my fault. I fucked up the _whole shoot_ because I'm a rookie Diva who doesn't know any better." She shook her head. "Whatever. I'm going back to the locker room." She moved slightly to the left, intending to sidle around Candice, but the SmackDown Diva quickly sidestepped, blocking her path.

"You just think you're _so _great, don't you?" Candice's tone was low, but filled with all the menacing sibilance of a snake. "Just because you won some little contest… Face facts, honey, you…you're not the kind of girl that men want. You see, _this_—" She gestured at her own body, at the two large assets that Nature had not had a hand in creating. "Torrie—" A quick nod of her head toward the blond Diva behind her. "_That's_ what men want. They're not interested in some rocker chick with a hole through her lip."

The very edges of Ashley's vision were starting to tinge with red, and the words fell out of her mouth before she could even consider that they might be a mistake: "At least the fans _picked_ me, _Candy_."

Very few people remembered that Candice had been eliminated from the first Diva Search, and it was certainly something that she hated being reminded of. As soon as the meaning of Ashley's statement sunk in, the brunette Diva's face flushed a dark crimson, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a snarl and her fingers curving into claws. "You _bitch_—" she spat, lunging at Ashley. She probably would have tackled the Diva Search winner, if Torrie hadn't suddenly grabbed her arm with both hands, restraining her.

"Whoa, Candice, calm down," she soothed, her pretty face full of concern. "She didn't mean it. Besides…" Taking one hand off her arm, she cupped it over Candice's ear, whispering something. Ashley couldn't hear what it was, but it apparently had some profound effect on Candice, because the rage faded from her face and her color slowly returned to normal. By the time Torrie pulled back, the brunette Diva's features had already resumed their original expression of haughty contempt.

Torrie let go of Candice, stepping around her and over to the rookie Diva. Ashley tensed for a minute, thinking that Torrie was going to finish what Candice had started, but the blond Diva merely linked her arm through hers, leading her away from the limo.

"Sorry about Candice," Torrie remarked apologetically. "She gets a little high-strung sometimes. It comes from having to put up with Melina all the time." At the mention of MNM's manager, both women shuddered. Ashley had only heard stories about Melina…but what she _had_ heard made Candice seem like Mother Teresa.

"Anyway," Torrie continued. "I know she seems like a bitch, but she means well. This is a hard business, you know. We're on the road all the time, we don't have time for relationships. The men here see you as eye candy, and the women…to them, you're either competition or a waste of space. If you don't get broken in, and broken in hard, you'll never survive."

Ashley listened to what the SmackDown Diva was saying. It made sense, but she couldn't help but be suspicious. Torrie always acted sweet and bubbly, but there was something about her sweetness that seemed deadly, like poisoned honey. Plus, she hung around with _Candice_. That could not bode well.

"So," Torrie chirped, oblivious to all of Ashley's doubts. "Candice and I came up a little initiation for you, something to prove that you have what it takes to be a Diva. Think of it as…a rite of passage." They were nearing the hallway that led out from the garage into the arena. Torrie stopped, turning Ashley toward her. "Of course, you don't _have_ to, but…" She let the thought trail off.

Ashley almost started laughing. An _initiation_? It sounded like some bad sorority hazing prank. Ten bucks it was just some stunt guaranteed to give everyone a good laugh and make her look even more ridiculous. If she had any sense at all, she would just walk back to the locker room without even bothering to give Torrie an answer.

But then that feeling surged upward inside her against, the need to be liked, the childish desire to be accepted. More than anything at this point, Ashley wanted a friend, someone to talk to, and if she had to go through some ridiculous rigmarole to find one, then that's what she would do.

She looked at Torrie, making sure to put just the right amount of skepticism in her voice. "What kind of initiation?" she asked.


	2. Chapter 2: An Accidental Kiss

**A/N: Sorry about the delay; I have been bogged down with all kinds of crap. To those of you who read and reviewed the first chapter, thank you so much! You all are awesome! Hopefully, the next chapters will come a little quicker after this.**

**I was so busy writing my A/N for the first chapter, I forgot the DISCLAIMER! NOOO! So, here it is:**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and no one in this story.**

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Chapter 2: An Accidental Kiss

Torrie clapped her hands together eagerly, bouncing up and down a little of the balls of her bare feet. She looked like nothing if not a kid at Christmas. "Sweet! I knew you'd agree!" she crowed. "See, Candice, she was _sure_ you'd chicken out, but me…I knew better—"

"Hold on, _hold on_," Ashley interrupted, holding up her hand to shut off Torrie's effervescent outpouring of words. Her tone was still wary. "Let's get something straight—I haven't _agreed_ to anything _yet_. I just asked _what kind_ of initiation we're talking about here."

"_Please_," The look Torrie shot her was pitying, almost to the point of condescension. "You wouldn't be asking unless you were interested, and you wouldn't be interested unless you were desperate." She peered at the rookie Diva. "Don't think that just because I'm a nice girl, I'm also an idiot. That tough girl routine might work on everyone else, but it doesn't work on me."

She stepped closer to the Diva Search winner, lowering her voice. "You may _act_ like a loner, but deep down, you _want_ us to accept you. Right now, you know you're nothing but a pair of breasts that talk, and you'd do _anything_ to change that, even if it means licking the sweat off of the Big Show's back."

The SmackDown Diva moved back and her tone brightened again. "Besides," she chirped. "All of us—even Candice—had to go through _some kind_ of dare when we got here; don't think you're getting off easy just because you won a contest."

Ashley was momentarily stunned by the other woman's surprisingly accurate perception. Earlier today, she was ready to peg Torrie as just plain clueless, but these last minutes had proved that the lovely Miss Wilson was anything but. While the blonde Diva had been talking, a coolness had crept into her gaze, a calculating quality which made Ashley think that her bubbly exterior was merely another piece of wrestling attire for her to don. There was a distinct possibility that Torrie was more dangerous than she let on.

But Ashley pushed that thought to the back of her mind for right now. Torrie might be a snake in the grass, but she was also right. Ashley _was_ desperate. Right now, she was an interloper in the close-knit community of the WWE. The Diva Search might have given her a check and a contract, but acceptance had not been part of the package. More than anything, she wanted people to stop holding her at arm's length, to treat her like one of _them_ and not like a stranger. Worse than that, like a _useless_ stranger.

The last thing Ashley wanted to be was useless. She realized at that moment that she might as well quit trying to be stubborn, because she _was_ going to do whatever Torrie said.

The rookie Diva sighed. "_Fine_," she relented. "What am I doing?"

Torrie's eyes twinkled with delight and she squealed excitedly. "Yay! That's the spirit, girl!" Putting her arm around Ashley's shoulders, she pulled her toward the hallway. "Trust me; it's not bad or anything. I think you'll get a kick out of it."

They stopped at the mouth of the corridor. Torrie tugged her to the left corner, just out of sight of the hallway itself. "Stand right here," she commanded, taking hold of Ashley's arms and maneuvering her until she was almost against the wall. "Now," Torrie continued. "Your goal…is to kiss the first guy who comes out of this hallway."

Ashley blinked. "_Excuse me_?" she sputtered.

Torrie didn't seem to notice the Diva Search winner's incredulous interjection. "And I don't mean just a peck on the cheek, either. When I say 'kiss him', I mean _kiss him_." She arched one eyebrow suggestively. "You know…make him remember you."

"Uh-huh," Ashley replied dubiously. "And other than making me look like a total whore—what _exactly_ will this do for me?"

Torrie's smile faded a little. "It'll show that you're spontaneous. That you're not afraid to take risks. Trust me, Creative is going to ask you to do worse things, and on live TV, no less. What's a little harmless dare between us girls?"

Ashley had to admit that she made a good point, but uncertainty was still clouding her mind. "I don't know—" she answered.

"Oh, come on!" Torrie's features finally began to show the first faint signs of irritation and impatience. "You're going to tell me that you can strip down to your underwear on national television, but you can't kiss a guy in front of—what? Fifteen people?"

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It really was no use arguing with Torrie Wilson; the girl simply did not take "No" for an answer. The rookie Diva opened her eyes again, casting her gaze toward the floor for a second or two, then back up at Torrie. "Okay," she relented. "Let's just…do this before I change my mind."

The SmackDown Diva's face lit up with another smile, this one even more radiant than the first. To Ashley, however, it reminded her of a poem from her early childhood, something about a crocodile and bewaring its toothy grin.

She realized that Torrie was still talking: "…And don't worry; Candice and I will be over there the whole time." She pointed over Ashley's shoulder. The Diva Search winner turned and, sure enough, spotted the brunette Diva standing about twenty feet away. Candice had both arms crossed over her chest, her expression like that of a petulant child. _Great_… Ashley thought to herself. _And she's going to be judging me?_

"Oh, and Ash?" Once again, Torrie's sweet little voice jarred her back to the present. Ashley looked back, focusing on the other Diva. Torrie's smile was still firmly in place. "Good luck; I'm _sure_ you'll do _great_."

Ashley had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

* * *

"So, explain to me exactly _how_ this is supposed to make me feel better," Candice grumbled when Torrie rejoined her. She glowered in the rookie Diva's direction. "If you'd just let me break her nose—"

"Relax, Candy," Torrie interjected smoothly, using the nickname with slightly more affection than Ashley. She, too, cast a glance at the Diva Search winner. "I told you I'd take care of her."

"Yeah," Candice retorted. "And she's still walking around, so that really doesn't solve my problem, now does it?"

Torrie sighed. "Candy, Candy, Candy…" She linked her arm through the brunette Diva's. "You just want to take all the surprise out of it, don't you?" She tilted her head to the side, still staring over at Ashley. "See, during the shoot, while you were glaring at Avril Lavigne over there, I had a talk with Victoria; asked her if, once we were done, she could find the biggest, ugliest Superstar on the roster and bring him out here."

Candice turned her head slightly toward the blond Diva, raising both delicate eyebrows. "And?" she prompted. "Your point being?"

Torrie merely smiled, and for the first time, there was a definite maliciousness to it. "Let's just say that our Ashley over there is about to play a little tonsil tennis with one Gene Snitsky."

A strangled sound emanated from Candice's throat as she quickly pressed her full lips together to stifle her laughter. "Oh my God, that's _perfect_!" she managed to whisper. "Oh, Tor, you're awesome!" She looked back toward Ashley. "That ought to knock her down a peg or two," she added nastily.

"See, didn't I tell you this would make you feel better?" Torrie remarked, turning her head toward Candice. "Now, get ready to watch the fun, because I'm pretty sure I saw both of them coming down the hallway."

Candice's focus, however, was all on the unsuspecting rookie Diva twenty feet away. "This is going to be _so good_," she muttered, more to herself than to Torrie.

* * *

Ashley rested the side of her head against the wall, still staring at the mouth of the corridor before her. She couldn't hear what Torrie and Candice were saying, but she _knew_, with that uncanny sixth sense women possess, that they were talking about her.

Ashley rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, comfortable in the knowledge that at least they couldn't see her. Those two…they must think she was a complete idiot. Just because Ashley was hungry for approval didn't mean than she had taken leave of her common sense. Something about this whole thing screamed set-up.

Why were Torrie Wilson and Candice Michelle—two Divas who had barely said a nice word to her—suddenly going out of their way to see that she was accepted? And this whole dare thing…well, just about _anybody_ could walk out of that hallway.

_Ten bucks,_ a little voice inside her head informed her. _Ten bucks says they got the ugliest guy in the arena; the one who makes those guys in __Deliverance__ look like __GQ__ models._ _Ten bucks says that all you're going to get out of this is a mouthful of his spit and the sound of those two bitches laughing at you_.

Ashley exhaled through her nose, her blue eyes narrowing a little. It was too late to back out now. She'd allowed herself to be dragged this far; she might as well go through with it. After all, she could always rinse out her mouth once it was over.

They wanted a kiss? Well, fine. She would give them a kiss, all right. It didn't matter if the next guy to step out of this hallway was Viscera, or just the dude who made the coffee; she was going to give him a kiss that he would _never_ forget.

And then, once those two behind her were enjoying a good laugh at her expense, she would turn around and blow them a kiss, as calm as you please, and then walk away without another glance. Whatever kind of reaction they were hoping to get from this little prank (and Ashley had already labeled it a prank in her mind), they were not going to get it from her.

She heard footsteps on the concrete floor. Someone was coming down the hallway. The steps were slow, deliberate—a man's tread. They grew louder and louder, and Ashley's heart abruptly lodged itself in her throat. She forced herself to stare straight ahead, where cinderblock dovetailed into a corner. Her plan of attack became a silent mantra, echoing in her mind. _Just kiss him and walk away. Just kiss him and walk away. Just kiss him and_—

Looking back on the incident, Ashley could not recall her first glimpse of the man who stepped out into the parking garage. She remembered a head, shoulders, but they were blank, without definition, like an outline drawn in a coloring book. All she could remember was the kiss…and everything that followed it.

Ashley didn't even give him a chance to stop; she stepped forward, blocking his path. Reaching up and grabbing his face with both hands, she yanked his head down, pressing her lips against his.

She heard a surprised grunt escape his mouth, a sound that was soon muffled. Ashley moved her mouth against his, trying to pretend that he was someone she had loved in the past, trying to pretend he wasn't someone she had just met. She felt his hands gently grasp her shoulders, and she assumed that he was about to push her away.

But, instead, her mystery man pulled her a little closer, his body grazing hers. Unexpectedly, she felt his lips respond to hers. _He_ was kissing her back. For those few heartbeats in time, Ashley was torn. Her head was screaming for her to stop; that this had gone on for too long. But her body…her body was aching to continue. Something about the way this guy kissed…it filled her with a sensation she'd never experienced before.

Then his tongue brushed her lower lip and the decision was made for her. Ashley pulled back, her eyes flying open in surprise…as she stared in the bluest irises she'd ever seen in her life.

Ashley took a step back, then another, almost stumbling over her own feet. She was far enough away to finally get a good look at her mystery man, but in truth, all she saw were those eyes. They were a perfect shade of azure, and they seemed to pierce down into the very core of her. Something about that gaze made Ashley feel naked, stripped bare. It was as though those eyes could see past the highlights, past the body piercing, and just see…_her_.

Ashley had never experienced this type of powerlessness, and it scared the hell out of her. So few people in her life had understood her; the fact that one guy could look in her eyes, and know her, was terrifying.

The rookie Diva blinked a few times, which seemed to break the spell. She looked back up, studying the young man in front of her, who was staring back at her with a mixture of confusion and amusement. Her eyes took in the cover-boy-handsome features, the short cut brown hair, the turquoise tribal designs, with a detached sense of awareness. Then, in an instant, the full realization of what she had just done came together in her mind, and the Diva Search winner almost groaned with humiliation.

This was worse than the coffee guy, worse even than Big Vis. The guy standing in front of her had been called many things during his career—third generation Superstar, the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in history, the Legend Killer—but right now, all she could think of was his name.

Ashley had just kissed Randy Orton.


	3. Chapter 3: First Encounters

**A/N: Again, I apologize for the wait; I was having problems with parts of this chapter, particularly the end. Thank you, as always, to everyone who read and reviewed! Hopefully, you'll enjoy this one as well, and I'll get right to work cranking the next one out. Peace!**

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Chapter 3: First Encounters

Randy glanced down the hallway he had just exited, then back at the rookie Diva in front of him. The corner of his mouth curled upward in a bemused smile. "Did, uh—did I win a contest or something?"

Ashley pressed both hands over her mouth, her face flushing bright red. A wordless mewling sound began to work its way up from her stomach, filtering out through her fingers. A different mantra started pounding in her head: _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. _

The Legend Killer continued. "Was there a raffle? Did someone draw my name out a hat?" He took a step or two toward her; Ashley was too frozen with mortification to move away. "Because when a beautiful girl grabs me and gives me a kiss like that…" He paused, reached up to push a strand of blond hair back from her face. He gazed down at her, those incredible irises mesmerizing her once again. "...I like to think that I actually did something to deserve it," he finished softly.

Ashley still couldn't speak; her brain had not recovered enough to be able to send coherent commands down to her mouth. She was still blushing; she could feel it tingling up at the roots of her hair.

Randy tilted his head to the side, still studying her. "Let's start at the beginning." He gestured toward himself. "I'm Randy," He motioned at her. "And you are…" He let his voice trail off expectantly.

Ashley was finally able to pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth. Her first words poured out over one another, the combination of syllables blurring together and becoming almost unintelligible. "Oh my God!" she gasped, her usually laid-back attitude left completely at the wayside. "I'm sorry! I am so sorry!"

The other corner of Randy's mouth twitched, curling his lips into a full-fledged grin. "Sorry, Sorry...is that a first name or a last name?" He glanced down, then back at her. "I've heard of weird names before…but your parents must have really hated you."

The joke was kind of corny, but yet it appealed to Ashley's sense of humor, causing the rookie Diva to let out a very unrefined snort of laughter. The sound seemed to surprise the Legend Killer and both of his eyebrows shot straight up. His expression, so innocently comical with his handsome features, made Ashley laugh harder, and she pressed her lips together in a valiant attempt to hold back her giggles. The laughter pushed the tension from her body, and slowly but surely, the rookie Diva felt her embarrassment fade.

The Legend Killer also relaxed, probably seeing that the blond girl before him was considerably more at ease. "That's better. I—" He stopped, looking back down the hallway. "Whoops! Out of the way; we're blocking traffic!" Before Ashley could protest, he took hold of her shoulders, pulling her forward and out of the way of the corridor. He was just in time; a few scant seconds later, the hulking bearded form of Gene Snitsky came barreling out into the garage, followed by a nearly out of breath Victoria.

Randy watched them pass with amusement. "Wonder where that guy's going in such a hurry?" He looked back at Ashley, suddenly noticing their closer proximity. He let go of her shoulders, bringing his hands back down to his sides.

Even after he had released her, Ashley could still feel the light pressure of his hands on her, the residual memory causing her skin to tingle a little. She stared up at the Legend Killer. His eyes still captivated her, but she was able to move past it now, able to look at him without feeling completely powerless. She extended her hand. "I'm Ashley, by the way,"

Randy accepted it, his hand closing gently around hers. "Nice to meet you, Ashley," he replied. Several moments of silence passed, then he spoke again, his smile becoming just a little more devilish. "_Much_ better than Sorry."

Ashley felt herself smile without meaning to. "Yeah, well, Sorry's my _middle_ name." They both laughed before growing quiet once more. The Legend Killer looked down at the floor, and Ashley could sense the previously comfortable silence between them becoming awkward yet again. Her smile faded. "Listen, about what just happened—"

Randy, however, was already waving his hand to shush her. "Let me guess," he ventured. "Diva initiation?"

The Diva Search winner's eyes widened in surprise. "How'd you guess?"

The Legend Killer shrugged nonchalantly. "Couple of things. One—you don't look like the kind of chick who's into macking on random dudes. Two—if _that's_ true, then only another girl could have talked you into it. Three—" He looked past her, at a point beyond her shoulder. "Candice Michelle and Torrie Wilson are staring at you like they'd like to kill you right now."

The rookie Diva shot a cautious glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the glares from both Divas were threatening to burn a hole right through her. Ashley turned back toward Randy, grimacing. "Great, now I have something to look forward to when I get back to the locker room." She noticed that the Legend Killer seemed confused, and quickly explained. "I think we just ruined their fun; I'm pretty sure I was supposed to get punked right about now."

"Oops!" Randy adopted a mock-guilty expression. "Sorry about that," he apologized, looking a tiny bit sheepish.

"Don't be," Ashley answered. Her countenance sobered. "Candice already hates me; there's no way that kissing you could make that any worse." She was amazed at the ease with which she could toss off the phrase "kissing you". She still barely knew Randy Orton, but yet somehow, she felt like she could discuss anything with him, even the humiliating incident which had been their introduction.

"Hey," The Legend Killer put his hand on her shoulder again, causing her to look up. He gazed into her eyes, and Ashley felt her knees quiver, almost like they were threatening to collapse beneath her. She silently willed her limbs to remain steady, hoping that whatever confused emotions were ricocheting through her brain were not registering on her face. "Don't let someone like Candice Michelle walk all over you, all right? She may brag about how she's such hot shit, but it's just that—all talk."

Ashley nodded, about the only action she was capable of making. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she silently asked herself._ Why am I acting like such an idiot?_

Randy moved a little closer, lowering his voice. "By the way, there's something you should know. I don't quite know how to say it—" He put his mouth right next to her ear. "I can see…_right through_ your top." he whispered.

The rookie Diva sucked in an astonished breath, and she swiftly crossed both arms over her chest. She silently cursed Candice and her terrific aim. "Sorry…forgot about that." she apologized, feeling like a complete moron. No wonder Randy had been looking into her eyes all this time; better that than risk looking like a complete perv.

"Yeaaaah…" Randy drawled, pulling back and casting his gaze to the side. The tension between them, nearly dissipated before, now increased tenfold, forming a practically palpable barrier between them. Ashley felt her ease, her comfort around the Legend Killer draining away. She looked down the hallway. "I should probably go…put a shirt on." she finally, stumbling over her words. Amazing how one little observation could ruin everything. She turned to leave.

"Wait," Randy gently grasped her elbow, tugging her back to face him. His expression was sympathetic. "Let me save you a trip." Without warning or ceremony, he stripped off his black t-shirt emblazoned with the letters "R.K.O.", extending it toward her.

Ashley froze. The sight of Randy's sculpted body, up close and personal, was enough to make her temporarily forget everything else. She may have been a punk rock girl, but she was still a _girl_, nonetheless, and she could appreciate an amazing physique when she saw one.

Luckily for her, the Legend Killer didn't seem to notice her almost overt ogling. He pushed the shirt toward her again, the garment dangling from his fist. "Go on, take it. It won't bite, I swear."

Ashley forced her gaze from his abs to the black cotton fabric before her. With one hand, she reached out and accepted it tentatively. "Really? You sure? I don't want to steal your shirt—"

Randy shrugged. "Trust me, the company practically throws these things at me. I've got a thousand others at home; I'm not going to miss just one. Besides," His eyes locked onto hers again. "It probably looks better on you, anyway."

The rookie Diva opened her mouth to reply, realized that it would probably just sound stupid, and closed it again. Instead, she concentrated on pulling the t-shirt over her head, putting her slender arms through the sleeves and tugging it down. The garment swam on her; the sleeves fell almost to her elbows and the hem of it ended at the tops of her thighs. But at least it would keep the rest of the locker room from staring at her chest.

The Diva Search winner looked back up at the Legend Killer, and saw a strange expression on his face. He was still smiling, but there was definite need in his eyes now. No, need was too strong a word; it was more like…_longing_. For the first time, Ashley felt an intense sense of loneliness exuding from Randy, and just the fact that the emotion existed within him puzzled her.

How in the world could a guy like Randy Orton possible be _lonely_?

Randy reached out toward her with both hands and the rookie Diva instinctively tensed, not really understanding why. But the Legend Killer was merely freeing her long hair from the neck of the t-shirt so that it spilled over her shoulders again in gold and black waves. As he did, his fingers grazed the edge of her jaw and Ashley unconsciously sucked in a breath. Randy didn't seem to hear her; he seemed to be lost in his own personal observation. "I was right," he remarked softly. "It _does_ look better on you." There was a trace of wistfulness in his voice.

Ashley didn't know what to say to that, or even how to react. She sensed somehow that she should respond, but she was afraid that whatever would come out of her mouth would be nothing more than a jumble of unrelated words. So she did the only other thing she could think of; she reached out to touch his face.

With a blur of motion, Randy shot his arm up, catching her hand before her fingers could make contact. His grip wasn't painful, but it still sent a clear message: _don't touch_. He looked at her, and this time, there was none of the naked emotion he had shown mere moments ago. His expression had closed down; it was still pleasant, just…_inaccessible_. Ashley sensed that she had crossed a line and in doing so, a door had closed between them.

The Legend Killer released her hand, and she let it fall back down to her side. His mouth curled upward, almost but not quite a smirk now. "I'll see you around, Ashley," Without any further words or farewell, he turned and strode off, his movements leisurely but still filled with a sense of purpose.

For a moment, Ashley couldn't think, couldn't even _breathe_. It was as though those few minutes with Randy Orton had taken place inside a vacuum, and now that he had left, it had burst, allowing the rest of the world to rush back in. The encounter had been weird from the start, but those last couple moments…Ashley was more confused than offended.

The conversation had started with a kiss—he had, in fact, _kissed her back_—but yet Randy had withdrawn when she tried to touch him. Maybe it was just his way of reminding her that they still didn't really know each other. They had shared some laughs and a t-shirt, but that was all. They were barely acquaintances, let alone friends.

_Or maybe he's trying to distance himself from you_…the little pessimistic voice inside her whispered.

Ashley almost shook her head. "He doesn't even know me," she murmured to herself.

_Candice didn't know you_…the voice was quick to point out.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Well, Candice is a bitch," she retorted. The little voice had no response to that. Ashley turned her head, staring off in the direction that Randy had left. She caught sight of him just before he passed out of sight, not once glancing back toward her. From his body language, it was almost as though the whole exchange between them—kiss included—had been nothing more than another item on his mental checklist. And in that moment, Ashley realized that she was hoping it had been more than that—more importantly, she was _missing _him.

The rookie Diva rapidly pushed that thought as far from her conscious mind as she could. She had always prided herself on being a realist, and if there was one thing that real life had taught her, it was that guys like Randy…didn't go for girls like her. Randy's taste in woman probably fell more along the lines of Torrie or Candice.

_Speak of the devil_…Ashley though to herself. She had completely forgotten about the two Divas. A small smile lit up her face. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. She turned around, locking her eyes onto her would-be tormentors. The SmackDown Divas had been joined by Victoria, all three of them talking nonstop. From what she could tell, Candice was reading Victoria the Riot Act, and Torrie was trying to talk her down, albeit very unsuccessfully. The monstrous Gene Snitsky was nowhere to be found.

"…This is all your fault!" Candice snarled. "I wanted her _humiliated_, not getting all cozy with the Legend Killer!"

Victoria held out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "What could I do?" she protested. "He walked out of the bathroom before we were even halfway down the hall. What was I supposed to do, catch up with him and say: 'Oh, don't go out there because we're trying to teach the new girl a lesson.'?" The raven-haired Diva frowned. "You think it was a piece of cake coaxing Snitsky? That guy is a freakin' pervert—"

As she talked, Candice looked over, noticing Ashley for the first time. She quickly elbowed Victoria in the ribs, silencing her. All three Divas then turned to stare at the Diva Search winner.

Ashley put her hands on her hips, still smiling. It didn't matter what she had overheard; their plan had backfired and all of them knew it. The rookie Diva carefully allowed her grin to become an obvious smirk. "So, girls…did I pass your test?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her words received only silence in return, but she could tell from the expression on Candice's face that the SmackDown Diva was only a heartbeat away from snapping.

Ashley shook her head pityingly and turned away, starting down the hallway. She heard the slap of bare feet against concrete behind her and was not entirely surprised when Candice grabbed her shoulder, her fingernails digging painfully into her skin through the shirt. The brunette Diva spun her around roughly, practically throwing her against the wall. Torrie and Victoria were on either side of her; Ashley wasn't sure if they were trying to pull Candice away or join in the fun. But she didn't have time to wonder because Candice was in her face, hissing like the reptile that she was.

"_So_ funny…you're just _so_ fucking hilarious, aren't you?" she spat. Her dark eyes traveled down to the "R.K.O." design, the sight of those three letters seeming to enflame her even more. Her eyes fixed on Ashley's once again. "You really think that you mean something to him?" Candice moved even closer, her tone losing none of its venom. "You're just another piece of ass to him, just a _skanky_ piece of _ass_—"

"Hey!" The authoritative yet distinctly feminine voice cut through Candice's shrill diatribe. The three Divas immediately backed away from Ashley, something very near fear spreading across their pretty faces.

Stephanie McMahon walked over to the group, looking from the trio to the rookie Diva pressed against the wall. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Candice replied quickly, her tone innocent. "We weren't doing a thing."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Stephanie replied, her tone holding a tiny bit of disdain. She stopped in front of the SmackDown Diva, folding her arms over her chest. She eyed Candice with something akin to dislike. "So why don't you find something useful to do?" There was a subtle but definite quality of menace in her voice now. Ashley had the feeling that this woman would be able to carry out any threat she uttered.

Candice's eyes narrowed, and for a second, just an instant, she looked like she wanted to argue that point. In that moment, Ashley sensed a power struggle between these two women, one that went deeper than the surface. She remembered seeing Candice flirting with the WWE Chairman before the shoot and wondered if that had anything to do it. Most likely, it did.

But instead of arguing, the SmackDown Diva pushed her full lips together in a pout and stalked back off to the parking garage, her two cronies in tow.

Stephanie watched them go, then glanced back at Ashley. "You okay?" Her tone was still business-like, but a touch warmer than it had been before.

Ashley nodded. "Yeah," She remembered what Randy had told her and decided to reiterate it. "You know Candice: she's all talk."

At first, Stephanie's expression didn't change, and Ashley wondered if she had just made a social blunder. Then a husky chuckle of laughter escaped the Billion Dollar Princess's throat. "True…very true." Her expression soon sobered again, her blue eyes boring into Ashley's.

The rookie Diva pushed herself off the wall, shifting a little on the balls of her feet. Stephanie, on the other hand, remained perfectly still, at ease, giving off an air of total confidence that Ashley could only envy. The former SmackDown GM studied her for several seconds, then spoke: "You did good out there today."

"Thanks," Ashley answered. What else could she say?

Almost like she was reading her thoughts, Stephanie's mouth twisted upward in a tiny smile. "Not exactly what you were expecting, was it?"

Ashley started to lie, then stopped herself. Stephanie would know anyway, and besides, she didn't want to become one of those Superstars who fawned over management. "Not exactly," she admitted.

As soon as she said it, she saw a small spark of interest blaze in the Billion Dollar Princess's eyes. Apparently honesty was the best policy. It seemed Stephanie felt the same way, because her next words were: "You don't seem like a BS-er, so I won't bullshit you," She paused. "You…this whole Diva competition…you're still kind of an experiment in progress. There are a whole bunch of people in this company who resent the fact that you—and Christy before you—won a contest to get here. Don't get me wrong; Christy's a sweet girl, but we practically had to put a gun to her head to get her to wrestle. So now it's up to you—up to you to prove that this whole competition isn't just a waste of our time."

"Get me in that ring and I'll show you just how big a waste of time I am." The words flew out of Ashley's mouth, too fast for her to check herself. From the stunned expression on the former GM's face, she was sure that she'd just committed professional suicide.

Then Stephanie's face lit up in a bright smile and she eyed Ashley with considerably more interest. "Oh, I think you're going to do just fine here." she answered, and Ashley soon understood that it was the closest thing she would get to an affirmation.

The Billion Dollar Princess turned to go, then stopped, rotating her tall frame back toward the Diva Search winner. "Nice shirt," she remarked.

The comment was so unexpected that Ashley was temporarily speechless. "Thanks," she managed to stutter. She knew this wasn't the end of it and wondered just where Stephanie was going with this.

The former SmackDown GM looked back at her calmly, her face expressionless. "Be careful."

Ashley frowned. "Why?" She was starting to sound petulant. She didn't mean to; it was just that Stephanie was being so damn cryptic.

The Billion Dollar Princess's eyes flicked toward the corridor beyond her. "Let's just say that…I've seen a lot of girls in that locker room crying their eyes out because of Randy Orton." Her gaze slid back to Ashley. "I'd hate to add you to that list."

"Don't worry," Ashley replied. "There's nothing going on." As she said it, she somehow knew that it was a lie, and wondered if Stephanie knew it too. But instead of answering, the former GM smiled and walked away without offering a goodbye.

Ashley looked down the corridor, trying to see what had grabbed Stephanie's attention. The past, perhaps—or maybe the future? The rookie Diva gave herself a mental shake. This was absurd. Even if there was something between her and Randy—which there _wasn't_—he had pretty much made his feelings clear—

The cold water drove every coherent thought from her brain. It crashed over her like a tidal wave, soaking her hair, her t-shirt, streaming down her body in icy rivulets. She squeezed her eyes shut out of reflex, but the water went in her mouth, up her nose. It tasted like soap and she coughed violently, spitting it back out. Combing back saturated tresses of hair, she wiped excess water from her face, cautiously opening her eyes.

Still trying to suppress a choking cough or two, she spun around toward the source of the tidal wave. Candice stood only a short distance away, one of the car wash buckets dangling from her finger like an expensive purse. As per usual, Torrie and Victoria flanked her. All three of them were grinning maliciously.

"Hey, Ash!" Candice's voice was filled with wicked glee. "No hard feelings?" She and her two friends immediately burst into musical peals of laughter. The sound was grating, digging into Ashley's ears like ice picks.

The Diva Search winner couldn't speak. Tears stung her eyes, either from the soap or from sheer frustration. Her lips trembled and she knew then that if she opened her mouth, she would start crying.

And that was one satisfaction this evil triad would never get.

Instead, the rookie Diva whirled around, her heels scraping against the cement. She walked away as fast as she could without actually running, leaving wet footprints and drops of water in her wake. Ashley put one hand to her face, trying to hold it all in, trying not to lose it before she was out of sight.

"Aw, what's the matter, _Ashley_?" Candice's voice was louder this time. "You gonna cry? _You gonna cry_?"

Ashley veered left, taking the first corner she saw, wanting desperately to put as much space as possible between herself and the other three Divas. But even when they were out of sight, she could still hear the sound of their laughter.

* * *

Ashley didn't know where she was going and didn't really care. All she knew was that she couldn't go back to the locker room like this. She had to find someplace private; somewhere she could exorcise her emotions without anyone seeing.

She finally found a spot, a small niche in the wall which led to a storage room. Ashley ducked into the niche, collapsing against the wall and sinking down to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them against her chest. Tears of frustration and anger leaked from her eyes, and her shoulders shook as she silently cried.

_What did I do to deserve this_? she pleaded with herself.

_Nothing_…her mind answered. The sad truth was that Candice hated her simply because she was _her_, while Torrie and Victoria were just along for the ride. It didn't matter what she did; they would never treat her like an equal.

Ashley buried her face in her arms. The t-shirt was completely soaked; it clung to her body like an icy sheet, the weight of the sodden fabric pulling her down even further toward the floor. Still, she pressed her face to the sleeve, unwilling to shed it because the gift of this shirt had been the one kind gesture she had been shown since arriving here.

Unbidden, thoughts of the Legend Killer drifted into her head. The only person who had been genuinely nice to her—and all anyone could say was to stay away from him. She thought about what Stephanie McMahon had said, how Randy had left a trail of broken-hearted Divas behind him. Maybe his kindness had been a lure, an enticement to make her the latest notch on his belt. But if that was the case, then why he had reacted the way he did when she tried to touch him? It was like he was trying to push her away…or keep himself from getting too close.

Ashley shivered. She was cold; no doubt because she was dripping wet and sitting in air conditioning. But then her teeth began to chatter and she realized that it was more than just the ventilation. It was _far_ colder than it should be; the sensation a frigid chill that seeped into her bones. She exhaled, and was stunned to see her own breath drift away in a visible plume of white vapor. _No way_ it should be this cold.

The rookie Diva felt a sliver of fear dig into her belly. She pressed her face against her arms, scrunching her body into a smaller ball. Through the gap between her crossed arms, she saw the concrete floor, its surface punctuated only by the occasional cloud of breath.

That was when the shadow appeared.

At first, it was nothing; just a line of black at the very edge of her vision. Then it crept into view like an oily black tarantula. It seemed to slither, to ooze across the floor as though it was a living entity. More of the shadow revealed itself, and Ashley saw, with an ever-growing feeling of abject horror, that it was the shadow of a _man_. First the head, then the shoulders, then the thick bulk of the upper body. It blotted out the light from the corridor, turning the pale gray of the cement floor to a sooty charcoal.

By now, Ashley could sense the person standing less than a foot away, but she didn't dare look up. She was gripped by a nameless irrational fear; the kind small children feel when they swear that the boogeyman is real.

Ashley closed her eyes, her whole body shaking, though whether it was the cold or the terror, she couldn't tell. Her lips moved silently, forming words that not even her brain could hear. She felt the person coming near; she could have reached out and touched him. But Ashley clenched her hands into fists, fearing that whatever her fingers would encounter would be worse than what her mind had conjured up.

She became aware that all the other sounds in the arena: the sound of vehicles, people talking, even the hum of the air conditioner, had faded away. There was nothing but this unnatural silence. That…and the sound of her own ragged breathing. She strained her ears, listening for some indication of the outside world, and then she heard it.

The voice.

Deep and resonant, it was emotionless, yet hinted at a terrible menace lying just under the surface. It was a male voice, uttering five simple words with a drawling preciseness:

"Stay away from Randy Orton."

Ashley clenched her body tighter, biting back a whimper. She kept telling herself that this was a _dream_, that there was no way this could be real.

Fingertips brushed her hair, lightly caressing. At this soft touch, Ashley's eyes flew open. She reared upward, intending to face whoever stood before her.

But there was no one there.

The niche, as well as the hallway just beyond it, was empty. The strange shadow had vanished. The temperate had returned to normal and the unnatural stillness was replaced by the sounds of people and machinery.

The Diva Search winner looked around wildly, frozen to the spot, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her eyes darted everywhere, searching for some evidence, some _sign_, that someone else had been here.

But the only thing that remained was the memory of that awful voice, its ominous warning echoing in her ears.

_Stay away from Randy Orton…_


	4. Chapter 4: Words of Advice

**A/N: SORRY AGAIN about the wait; this chapter was my personal nemesis for a while. Thank you once again for all the reviewers who have read and reviewed; you're awesome! **

**I apologize for this chapter; I know that a lot of you are waiting for Ashley for start kicking some ASS! Don't worry, she will; I just need to get there story-wise, so bear with me. **

**In good news, however, this chapter is 100 percent Candice-free! Enjoy! Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 4: Words of Advice

The rookie Diva was the last one to vacate the women's locker room that night. Normally, Ashley was able to change and pack up fairly quickly, but tonight's events had left her too shaken to concentrate properly. More than once, she glanced down only to realize that she was folding and unfolding the same garment over and over. Finally, Ashley gave up altogether, crumpling the piece of clothing up and tossing it into her suitcase. She sank down onto the bench with a choked sigh, finger-combing her long hair back from her face and trying not to shake.

Like a song that's been put on repeat, the strange encounter in the hallway kept replaying itself in her mind. Even now, hours later, she had yet to explain it away with any logical part of her brain. The temperature drop, the gliding shadow, the fingers brushing her hair—none of it made any sense. A building's temperature didn't just suddenly fall by twenty degrees. A full-grown man didn't just vanish into thin air.

And then there had been that _voice_. Ashley gritted her teeth as involuntary tremors gripped her body. It was the one thing about the entire incident that prevented her from writing it off as just a dream or a figment of her imagination. In that voice, she had heard the deep stillness of the graveyard; the absolute finality of Death itself. Ashley knew, _knew_, that she couldn't invent a voice like that. Her lips moved as she repeated its message, her voice so soft, it was almost inaudible:

"Stay away from Randy Orton."

Obviously, whoever it was had seen her and Randy together in the parking garage. But what did they mean by those words? Was it a caveat, warning her that Randy Orton was not the nice guy he appeared to be? Or was it something more sinister…a threat, perhaps?

Ashley groaned, burying her face in her hands. This was insane. Here she was, attempting to find meaning in a message from someone that she couldn't identify, couldn't even prove was _real_. Maybe there was a valid explanation for all of this, but right now, she was just too drained to figure it out. Best to focus on something else, before she started obsessing.

The Diva Search winner closed her eyes, forcing her mind back to another encounter. She remembered the cold water dousing her body, remembered the expression of spiteful glee on that whore Candice's face, remembered her own feelings of humiliation and ire...

It worked; the anger that surged through her body drove out the memories of sinister shadows and vague warnings. Ashley looked up, her blue eyes narrowing as the recollection sharpened. Her lips drew back a little from her teeth. "Bitch." she whispered to the empty room. "What the fuck did I ever do to you?" She inhaled, enjoying the sensation of being absolutely furious. The anger was purifying; it made her feel stronger, in control. The rookie Diva glanced down at her hand, displaying her fingers out in front of her before rotating her hand around and curling it into a fist. She smiled, a small humorless smile. Candice and Torrie…they were safe for now on SmackDown. But if either one of them ever stepped in the ring with her in the future, she would make them regret it...

Turning back to her suitcase, she dipped her hand into one corner of its interior and extracted a damp ball of crumpled fabric. Shaking it out and draping it over the empty bench beside her, she smoothed out some of the larger wrinkles with her hand. The t-shirt was still wet, but she could hang it up once she got to her hotel room. Ashley's fingers touched the lowercase "R" of the design, and a brief shiver rippled through her body, not of cold this time, but of something deeper, something composed entirely of heat. The Diva Search winner quickly folded the shirt over, hiding the logo, and shoved it back into her suitcase under some other clothes.

The more she thought about it, the more her feelings regarding the Legend Killer refused to make sense. _Randy Orton _refused to make sense. On the one hand, here was this funny and sweet guy who had given her his t-shirt when most men would have just stood there and ogled her chest. On the other, here was this cocky and arrogant Superstar who apparently trod on Diva's hearts with little or no concern for the consequences. And Ashley wasn't sure which persona was the more real. She remembered how he had brushed her off; what if he _was_ really a complete asshole? If she chose to open herself up to him, she could just be setting herself up for a broken heart somewhere down the line. But what if those stories were just bullshit?

If Randy Orton was as callous as people claimed he was, then why had his eyes filled with such longing when he looked at her?

_You're crushing on him_, the irritating little voice inside her head murmured. _You made out with him a little by mistake, and now you've got a thing for the Legend Killer. That's all it is, Ashley: just a little crush, so quit reading into it. He doesn't mean anything to you…just like you don't mean anything to him._

"Shut up," Ashley whispered, painfully aware that she was arguing only with herself. "Just…shut up." Abruptly, she zipped her suitcase up, lifting it off the bench and setting it down on its small set of wheels. Standing, she grasped the handle and, rolling it back it, exited the room.

The arena was mostly empty, the only remaining people technicians and crew members dismantling the SummerSlam set and packing up equipment. This time, Ashley knew precisely where she was, and it didn't take her long to reach the parking garage. Her rental car was on the far end, near the entrance. The rookie Diva fished absently in her oversized bag with her free hand, searching for the car key. Of course, by now it had gravitated to the very bottom of the bag, eluding all attempts to be found. Ashley finally halted, groping deeper and deeper. After almost a minute of searching, her fingers grazed the plastic tag on the key, closed around it.

"Hey, Ashley!" The Diva Search winner was so startled by the unexpected greeting that she spun around, her arm coming out of the bag and bringing the key with it. It flew from her hand, sailing away in a low arc. Ashley watched it descend downward, almost in slow motion, clattering against the concrete and skittering to rest under a nearby car.

The rookie Diva blinked, as though she could not believe what had just happened. She bent down a little, trying to see where the car key had landed. She didn't spot it. "Fuck me!" Ashley grumbled in a low voice, uttering one of her favorite epithets. She leaned down even further, her long hair brushing the floor. Still no sign. "Fuck me _sideways_!" she added for good measure.

Remembering at that moment that she was not alone, she turned back toward the source of the voice. The irritation drained from her face almost immediately when she saw who it was.

Randy looked from the car to her, grinning with that sly amusement which would have seemed like arrogance in anyone else. "Nice…but aren't you moving a little fast? I mean, we only just met tonight."

Ashley's eyes narrowed very slightly. She knew he had meant it as a joke, but after the evening she had had, Randy's comment just rubbed her the wrong way. In that moment, she temporarily forgot her conflicted feelings; now she just wanted to smack him for sounding like such a douchebag. "_Ha. Ha._ Very funny." she grumbled. Leaving her suitcase and bag where they were, she stormed over to the car, dropping to her hands and knees to peer underneath it. She spotted the key; it had landed further away than she had expected. The Diva Search winner stretched out on her stomach, reaching under the car as far as it would go. However, the key remained just out of reach.

The Legend Killer must have strolled over to join her, because when he spoke again, his voice came from right beside her. "Tou-_chy_, aren't we? What are you so mad about? Did Candice say something?"

Ashley froze for an instant or two. Slowly, she pulled herself back up into a kneeling position, eying Randy with more than a little irritation. Now she _really_ wanted to smack him. "I don't know; maybe because you scared the _shit_ out of me, and now my key is under a _fucking _car. And Candice didn't need to _say_ anything; no, she did all her talking with a nice bucket of cold water. And if that wasn't bad enough, I—" She stopped, suddenly unable to voice those final words.

_If that wasn't bad enough, I saw something that I can't explain. SomeONE who told me to stay away from you_.

So far, Randy Orton was the only person who had treated her with anything resembling respect; how would he react if she told him that she had felt a strange presence? Seen a slithering shadow? Heard a voice that turned her blood into ice water? He would think she was nuts, definitely. And even if he didn't, at the very least, he would never again gaze at her with that unexpected warmth, that expression of almost-affection. He would look at her the same way that everyone else did: as an unwanted guest who has overstayed their welcome.

With a quick flash of insight, Ashley realized that she didn't want that to happen. Strange as it seemed, she actually _wanted_ him to like her.

The Diva Search winner shook her head quickly, ducking her chin and letting her hair obscure her face. "Never mind, forget I said anything." She turned toward the car again.

She felt a hand grasp her arm firmly, and glanced up. Randy was down on one knee beside her, his handsome face serious now. "Hey," he said softly. "I was out of line; I'm sorry. Sometimes, I forget that I'm an asshole."

Ashley, incredibly, felt a small smile slide onto her face. Maybe it was the simple warmth and sincerity in Randy's words. "You're not _that_ much of an asshole," she relented. She held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Maybe a _little_ bit."

The Legend Killer grinned. "Really? _Yessss_! There's hope!" His eyes, those blue eyes that somehow possessed the power to make speech impossible, bore into hers. "But seriously, though…is there's something that you want to talk about?"

Ashley looked back at him, and was amazed at how much she _did_ want to share. She had always been more comfortable around guys, but she was usually a lot more reserved than this. What was so different about the Legend Killer? The rookie Diva pushed her hair back from her face with both hands. "It's…been a long night." she admitted. "But I don't really want to go into it here."

Randy raised one eyebrow. "Really?" There was a trace of amusement in his voice. Without warning, he dropped down on his stomach, stretching his arm under the car as Ashley had done. There was a soft clink of metal and the Legend Killer raised himself back up, dangling the elusive car key in his hand and grinning triumphantly. "Hah! Success!"

The Diva Search winner breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so mu—" She reached for the key, but Randy pulled it just out of her reach, dangling it temptingly above him.

"Uh-uh," he chided her playfully. "Not so fast. First, you have to do something for me."

Ashley slowly pulled her hand back, feeling the first faint stirrings of what could possibly be unease. "And that is?" she asked warily.

The Legend Killer's eyes swept around the parking garage before coming to rest on her again. "You said you didn't want to talk about it here."

"So?" Ashley replied, still cautious.

"So…" Randy reiterated. "How about over dinner? Tonight?"

The request was so simple, so heartfelt, and yet so unexpected that all Ashley could do was blink and utter a startled "What?"

"You heard me." Randy's expression was sober now, but in his eyes, there was that look of amusement bordering on arrogance that only he could pull off. "Dinner, with me, tonight. It's not anything fancy, but if you're like the rest of the Raw roster, you've got a long drive to Virginia ahead of you—why not have a little food and some conversation before you start out?" The grin returned. "Unless, of course, you're one of those girls who doesn't eat."

Ashley smiled. She couldn't help it; Randy's grin was contagious. "All right," she agreed. "You've got yourself a date."

* * *

The meal was better than she'd expected. From the outside, the little diner a few miles from the arena had looked like a complete hole in the wall, but outside, it was clean and the food was delicious. Ashley ate with gusto, finding out she was a lot hungrier than she'd thought.

Randy watched her devour her sandwich with a kind of surprised pleasure. The Diva Search winner eventually noticed his staring, glancing up from her plate. "What?" she asked playfully. "You never seen a Diva that eats?"

"Oh, _they_ eat," Randy answered. "I _know_ they eat. But whenever I take one of them out, they always pretend that they don't. They just sit there, pushing a salad around on their plate, while they eye my French fries."

As though to add to this statement, Ashley snatched a fry from his plate, shoving it into her mouth.

"Hey!" Randy protested, but he was laughing too hard to really be upset.

Ashley swallowed, smiling sweetly and sticking her tongue out at him. This earned her another fry; this one bouncing off her nose. She stared back at the Legend Killer, mouth hanging open, while Randy practiced his best innocent expression. "You jerk!" she exclaimed, picking up the piece of food and tossing it back at him. A brief French fry battle soon followed, ending with both parties slumped over the table, shaking with hysterical laughter.

They talked about the usual things—music, movies, other interests. Ashley answered the Legend Killer's questions, but still kept up her guard to a certain degree, ready to deflect any questions about her personal life—more importantly, her relationship status. But surprisingly, Randy didn't ask; only leaned back against the booth as the conversation lapsed back into silence. He was looking at her again; he seemed to be studying her. Something about his keen observation made Ashley uncomfortable, and she looked down at the table, holding her water glass between both hands.

Randy finally broke the silence, shifting a little in his seat before he spoke. "So…want to tell me what's on your mind?"

Ashley glanced up and opened her mouth, intending only to tell him the water bucket story—but to her surprise, she began to tell him _everything_. She started with the Diva Search, how she had entered on a whim, wanting it desperately, but never once believing that she would be selected. How she kept surviving week after week, while the friends she'd made were sent home. The overwhelming emotion she'd felt when she'd been announced as the winner. The rookie Diva then segued into the events from earlier: the lack of welcome from the other Superstars or Divas, her confrontation with Candice, the so-called "Diva initiation" and the SmackDown Divas' revenge. The only thing she left out was the eerie hallway encounter, for obvious reasons.

"…and the thing that really pisses me off is that no one out there is even willing to believe in me," she finished, taking a sip of water. "They think I'm going to be another Christy Hemme; just a pretty waste of space. They don't see me as a wrestler, and whenever I say that I _want _to wrestle, they look at me like I've just gotten off the short bus." She looked up at Randy, who was listening to her intently. "I'm sorry; I'm rambling, aren't I?"

The Legend Killer leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on the table. He seemed to be searching for just the right thing to say. Probably trying to find a polite way to tell her to shut the hell up. "Let me tell you something, " he began, his gaze traveling up to meet hers. "I guess you know that I come from a wrestling family. My dad wrestled, my grandfather—so wrestling's pretty much in my blood. I thought, when I came here, I could just mention the name 'Orton' and all these doors would fly open." He paused.

"And?" Ashley prompted him.

Randy grinned wryly. "_And_ I got over that _real_ quick. See, I hadn't actually _earned_ anything yet, so the veterans, they treated me like shit, and the new guys…well, I guess they were afraid of pissing off the veterans. Anyway, I spent the first month and a half of my WWE career being the butt of everyone's jokes."

Ashley felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "And this is supposed to reassure me _how_?" she asked.

Randy reached for his own glass, rolling the edge of it around in a circle on the tabletop. "My point is, I took that, all of that rejection, and I used it. I went out to the ring, and I worked my ass off, and eventually, people started to notice. And that's what you need to do." His eyes fastened on hers again. "People want to treat you like you're useless, prove them wrong in the ring. They want to turn you into another Christy Hemme, don't let them." He lifted up the glass and took a sip. "I don't know why they'd want to, though. I mean, you're nothing like Christy."

His matter-of-fact tone was like another bucket of cold water. Ashley flinched, her expression growing hard. The comment had stung a lot more than she'd expected. "_Nice_," she retorted, her voice sarcastic. "Thanks a lot."

Randy must have noticed the look on her face, because his own softened. "Wait, you misunderstood me," He set his glass down. "I meant that as a compliment."

"Yeah, well, it didn't sound that way," Ashley remarked, her tone still harsh. She met his eyes with a steely gaze of her own. "Christy's gorgeous, she's bubbly, she's been in Playboy—what do I have that she doesn't?"

Randy looked back at her calmly, and as she watched, his mouth eased into another smile. "You're interesting." he replied.

Ashley didn't know if it was his voice or the expression on his face or the words themselves—whatever it was, it drained the anger from her body. The Diva Search winner sat back in the booth, feeling a little bit numb in the sudden absence of emotion. "Thanks—I think," she managed to answer, hoping that her voice sounded normal.

Somehow, she knew that he had just paid her a major compliment.

* * *

The rookie Diva unlocked her car, sliding inside and closing the door. She leaned back against the driver's seat, closing her eyes.

Randy had already left, flipping up his hand in a wave as he drove out of the parking lot. Ashley had watched him go, staring at the red glow of the twin taillights until they disappeared from view, and feeling just a little bit lonely.

Dinner with the Legend Killer had provided her with a clearer picture of the SmackDown Superstar, but it had done little to clarify her confused mixture of feelings about him. He was arrogant, there was no doubt about that. The way he'd tossed off that comment about dinner with the Divas—it was obvious that Ashley was not the first (and probably not the last, either) to grab an after-show bite with Randy Orton. Even if he wasn't the ladies' man she had been warned about, he was definitely aware of his effect on women; it had probably been a long time since any woman had turned him down.

More than once, though, Ashley had gotten the impression that he was being just as guarded with her as she was with him, conversing through a carefully constructed inner wall. It wasn't that he was lying; more like he was just telling her what she expected to hear, so she wouldn't need to ask any questions. And whenever she looked in his eyes, she saw that same remoteness she had seen back in the parking garage, like he was holding himself back. And the rookie Diva wondered if his comments about other Divas had been meant to maintain that distance, to keep her from getting too close to him…or vice versa. She realized then that for all their conversation, she really knew very little about the Legend Killer.

Ashley sighed. Randy was cocky, distant, unpredictable—and yet she couldn't stop thinking about him. More than that…she wanted to see him again.

"Yeah, fat chance of that," she remarked to the empty car. She was on Raw, he was on SmackDown, and even a rookie Diva could figure out that relationships didn't work across brands. Besides, she had no way of knowing if Randy felt the same way that she did. Maybe she was reading too much into his distance; maybe he was just bored around her. But yet, that comment he had made…

_You're interesting_…

The Diva Search winner reached out and smacked the steering wheel with her palm. "Enough." she commanded herself. She had a three-hour drive to Hampton, Virginia, ahead of her; she was not making it any shorter by sitting here in a parking lot, arguing with herself. Once she got out on the road, she could use this personal conundrum to keep herself awake.

Ashley inserted the key into the ignition, started to turn it—and then stopped, looking up. An eerie feeling had crept over her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. She glanced all around, taking in the back seat, the dimly lit parking lot outside. No one was there; the parking lot was deserted. Nevertheless, the rookie Diva was positive that at that moment, she was not alone. That someone was watching her, from very close by. And most importantly, that it was the same someone from the hallway. Ashley didn't know _how_ she knew this; it was something that she understood only in the most primal part of her subconscious. The fear began to creep back into her, taking hold of her with cold fingers, but this time, the Diva Search winner fought it. She kept looking around, her breathing coming out in soft pants, but refusing to cower this time.

"I know you're there," she whispered to the darkness. There was no response; she hadn't really expected one. "I know you can hear me," she continued, raising her voice a little. Her eyes fastened on the diner several yards away. Toward the back, where the yellow light of the streetlights couldn't reach…there seemed to be _something_, a large patch of shadow darker than shadow. Ashley stared at it, knowing that she quite possibly was letting her imagination run away with her. "I don't know who the _hell_ you are," she spat. "But stay the _fuck_ away from me."

She gripped the key, turning it hard. The engine roared to life. Throwing the car into reverse, Ashley swung out of the space, shifting into drive and practically tearing out of the parking lot. She turned onto the street, forcing herself to focus on how to get to the interstate. As the diner disappeared behind her, she felt the cold sensation within her dissipate and then vanish. The rookie Diva exhaled softly with relief. Within minutes, her mind was solely on the drive ahead of her…and on Randy Orton.

Deep within the shadows behind the diner, something moved. A figure stepped out, the nearby light highlighting the curve of a shoulder, the sharp brim of a hat. No face was discernible beneath the brim; it was as though the figure had somehow pulled the darkness into himself, making him into just another shadow. From that terrifying blackness below the hat came a voice, a harsh echo of the one Ashley Massaro had heard in the hallway. "You were warned."

The figure stepped back into the shadows, letting the darkness consume it once again.


	5. Chapter 5: Playing Nice

**A/N: Sorry about the wait; I've been so busy over the last few weeks with grad school stuff and work that I've barely had time to write. Thank you so much to all of you who have read and reviewed; you really help encourage me to keep this story going. I've finished Chapter 6 as well, so I'm already working on getting that one out there.**

**This chapter and the next one may seem like I'm moving off-track, but I'm just setting up things for future chapters. Read, review, but most importantly, ENJOY! Peace!**

**A/A/N: Thank you, Ric Flair, for 36 wonderful years! WOOOOOO!**

* * *

Chapter 5: Playing Nice

The drive to Hampton was surprisingly smooth. Traffic at that hour was light and she had no problem staying awake. Once she arrived at the hotel and checked in, however, exhaustion swooped back down to reclaim her. Ashley barely managed to change into her pj's and hang up the damp "R.K.O." t-shirt before shutting off the light and collapsing onto the queen-size mattress.

Her slumber was uneventful. No threatening shapes haunted her dreams; there was only a deep comforting darkness. By the time the shrill buzz of the alarm clock woke her the next morning, the strange events of last night seemed like mere shadows, easily dispelled by the light of day. She still lacked an explanation for any of them, but at least they no longer haunted her.

Unlike Randy Orton. Even after a good night's sleep, Randy Orton still haunted her. Ashley continued to dwell on him as she got dressed, as she checked out of the hotel, and even as she stopped at a nearby café to get a cup of coffee. It was only when she sat down at a small table in the corner to sip her mug of fragrant brew that she actually tried to lay out what she knew in some sort of logical fashion.

Everything the Legend Killer had done seemed to contradict itself. He had reached out to her, but at the same time, he was drawing himself away to a place where she couldn't reach him. He was sincere, he was _sweet, _but he also had a reputation as a heartbreaker. And that word he had used to describe her—_interesting_—such an unusual choice.

For the majority of her adolescence and childhood, people had often described Ashley's appearance, musical tastes, and lifestyle as "interesting"—and they had never meant it in a good way. The way Randy had said it…it was the first time it had ever seemed like a compliment.

Ashley laughed quietly to herself over the rim of her cup. Here she was, having met the Legend Killer not even twenty four hours before, and already she was psychoanalyzing him, dissecting his every word, every action. "Sounds like a crush to me," she murmured to herself. She must have uttered that sentence louder than she thought, because the guy behind the café counter glanced up and peered at her strangely. The rookie Diva quickly took a huge swallow of coffee to cover her embarrassment, burning her mouth and nearly choking in the process.

Okay, so she had a thing for Randy Orton. Big deal; if the stories she heard were even remotely true, what Diva hadn't? The important thing was how she chose to handle it from here. And no matter how attracted she was to him, no matter how comfortable she was with herself, she couldn't change the fact that Randy Orton was way out of her league.

The Diva Search winner finished her coffee. Leaving the café, she spent the next few hours exploring downtown Hampton, poking around various shops. She was pleasantly surprised to be recognized by more than a few fans, and took the time to sign every autograph, pose for every picture. After all, the WWE fans were more or less responsible for her wrestling contract, and it would be stupid not to show her appreciation for their support. These small interactions, more than any logical argument, helped to take her mind off of Randy. Not by banishing him from her thoughts, but by bringing a more important event to the forefront of her consciousness: her upcoming debut as an official WWE Diva.

By the time Ashley arrived at the Hampton Colisseum, the ball of nervousness simmering in her stomach had driven away all thoughts of the Legend Killer. Tonight, she would have to make an good first impression on the other Raw Superstars and Divas; show them that she wasn't just another big-breasted blond, that she _belonged_ in this business. Hopefully, she wouldn't make an idiot out of herself in the process.

Driving around to the back of the arena, she pulled into the enclosed parking area reserved for Superstars and crew. Getting out of the car and popping the trunk, she lifted out her suitcase. As she set it down on the ground, she looked around, taking a moment to drink it all in. Off to her left, two technicians were moving black equipment crates. On her right, Gregory Helms, aka the Hurricane, had just gotten out of his rental car, and was now talking on his cell phone as he headed across the parking lot.

The Diva Search winner took a deep breath. This was it. This was her path now, and her only choice at this point was to forge ahead and hope for the best.

She started off toward the locker room. The rookie Diva was already much improved from the day before; she didn't ask for directions this time, but rather knew instinctively where to look. It didn't take her long to find the plain wooden door, its sign reading simply: "Women's Locker Room". For just a moment, another bout of nervousness gripped her, as she anticipated the sudden hush that would inevitably fall over the room the moment she opened the door. But just as quickly, the feeling passed. She had been put through the wringer yesterday; a few stares and whispers were not going to faze her at this point.

Pushing open the door, she was surprised to find only one other person inside. Maria Kanellis whirled around suddenly, her large doe-eyes growing even larger with surprise. As she did so, her hand accidentally hit her makeup bag, knocking it to the floor, sending various cosmetics containers flying in every direction. The Raw Diva regarded this mishap for a second or two with evident chagrin, then returned her attention to Ashley. "Ohmigod!" she exclaimed, her high-pitched voice rising and becoming almost shrill. "Oh my gosh, you scared the crap out of me!"

Ashley shot a quick look to either side of her before focusing her gaze on Raw's backstage reporter. She slowly raised both hands, as though offering a truce. "It's just me," she replied cautiously.

Maria opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut, opened it again, closed it again, before finally giving up altogether and stooping down to retrieve her makeup. Ashley almost went over to assist her, but decided that it might do more harm than good. Instead, she allowed herself a quick eye roll. _Geez, girl, switch to decaf…_she thought to herself.

Maria was far from the airhead she portrayed on television, but Ashley had always sensed a nervous energy emanating from her, like a small dog who can barely sit still. Tonight, however, the backstage reporter was downright skittish, almost fearful. It was as though she had been hit, and was now steeling herself against a possible second blow. _What's up with her?_ Ashley wondered silently.

She shook her head. Now was not the time. She had more important things to worry about than Maria's internal state. Heading over to an empty cubbyhole, the Diva Search winner laid her suitcase out on the adjacent bench, upzipping it. She had already decided on her outfit this morning, so dressing didn't take long. Black off-the-shoulder top, short black pleated skirt, silver stud belt, fishnets and knee-high black boots. Grabbing her makeup bag and hair accessories, the rookie Diva headed across the room to the wall of lighted mirrors. Despite the absence of other Divas, most of the counter space was covered. Ashley nudged aside a few things, plugging in her flat iron and turning it on. While it warmed up, she put on her makeup, applying a heavier layer of eyeliner than usual and a richer shade of lip gloss. She then used the flat iron to iron her hair until it was pin straight.

Taking a step back, Ashley checked her overall appearance in the mirror. She quickly ran a hand through her hair to keep it from looking _too_ neat. Not bad; some wrist warmers, a backwards baseball cap, and she would be good to go. Turning back to retrieve these accessories, the Diva Search winner saw Maria standing perfectly still, her refilled makeup bag in one hand, her attention fastened on Ashley's suitcase.

Ashley followed her gaze, wondering what could possibly be so intriguing about her stuff. Then she saw the black "R.K.O." shirt neatly folded on top, its white lettering distinctive even from the other side of the room. The Diva Search winner glanced sharply back at Maria, noticing for the first time the wistfulness in the other girl's expression—as well as undisguised jealousy. Stephanie McMahon's words came back to her, echoing in her ears:

_I've seen a lot of girls in that locker room crying their eyes out because of Randy Orton…_ Had Maria been one of them?

The backstage reporter seemed to sense that she was being watched, and glanced up, blushing involuntarily when she saw Ashley staring at her. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly, almost under her breath, turning away and rummaging around on one of the shelves.

Ashley almost said something, but stopped herself. It would just come out awkward or weird anyway, and besides, even if Maria had a history with the Legend Killer, it was certainly none of _her_ business.

So why was it bothering her all of a sudden? Why did the idea of Maria sharing something as innocuous as a post-show meal with Randy—just like she had done the night before—make her feel as though something was gnawing away at her stomach?

The rookie Diva shook her head. An unseen tension had filled the room, pressing down on her from all sides. Right now, it would probably be for the best if she got out of there. Pausing long enough to grab her cap and slap it on her head, Ashley walked over to the door, almost flinging it open with the heel of her hand. Halfway along its arc, she felt it meet resistance, followed by a surprised "OOF!"

The Diva Search winner hurridly stepped around the door, her face turning red when she saw Stephanie standing a foot or two away, gingerly rubbing her nose. She took a step toward the former GM. "Oh God, are you all rig—"

Stephanie waved away with her other hand, in which was clenched a clipboard and a notepad. "I'm fine," When she saw the concern mixed with worry on Ashley's face, she put both hands down and smiled. "Don't worry about it; I used to take worse bumps in the ring. Besides, I wasn't watching where I was going, anyway." She cleared her throat. "I was just looking for you; I've got good news and bad news. Now the good news is: you're making your Raw debut tonight."

Ashley felt both nervousness and excitement well up inside of her. "Really? You're not messing with me, are you?"

Steph laughed, pushing back a ringlet of dark blond hair. "No, no joke. And relax; you won't be washing a car this time."

This comment, uttered with a kind of devilish innocence, was enough to evoke a giggle from the rookie Diva. Stephanie joined her, and for a moment, the lines between boss and employee blurred and disappeared. Then the former GM glanced back down at her clipboard and just like that, the lines were back in place and she was all business again. "All right; your segment is during Hour 2, right after the Big Show-Gene Snitsky match."

"Okay, cool," Ashley replied. Then she frowned. "But what's the bad news?"

Even though Steph didn't make a sound, the Diva Search winner saw her shoulders lift up and down in a sigh, and when she looked up, her expression was almost apologetic. "It's not _what_, exactly…it's _who_." Her blue eyes left Ashley's, flicking over to a point just beyond her shoulder.

Ashley started to turn, but before she could complete the motion, she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, fingernails pressing lightly against her skin. She caught the scent of a vaguely familiar perfume, and then an even more familiar voice assaulted her ears.

"We'll take it from here, Steph," Candice Michelle purred, flashing a brilliant smile at the former GM.

* * *

Ashley froze for only a fraction of a second. The shock had already started to take hold of her, but she willed it away, forcing it to the back of her mind where she could deal with it later in private. For a second, she wondered if this was just a dream, some kind of juvenile nightmare. But even as she thought this, she could still feel Candice's arm around her shoulders, could still feel those talons of hers digging ever-so-subtly into her skin. If this was a dream, it was a damn good one.

The Diva Search winner felt a second presence at her side, but didn't turn to look. Wherever Candice Michelle went, Torrie Wilson followed, and right now was no exception. Ashley forced herself to keep her expression neutral. As they had proved yesterday, these two Divas were creatures that thrived on weakness, and the sooner Ashley repressed her shock, the better chance she stood of surviving another surprise attack. She fixed her gaze on Stephanie, trying to put all of her unspoken questions into her eyes.

However, the former GM was staring at Candice, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was clipped and cold. "You promised me—"

"Relax, Steph," the brunette Diva swiftly interrupted. "We're not doing anything except filling her in on what you were about to tell her anyway." Her nails dug a little harder into Ashley's arm. "Besides, you look like you're super busy, so why don't you just run along—" Candice made a small dismissive gesture with her hand. "—and let us take care of Ash here." Her voice was perfectly innocent and sweet, but even Ashley had caught the absolute contempt in that single movement.

Steph must have noticed it as well, because even though her expression didn't change, the fingers curled around her clipboard tightened for an instant, the knuckles flushing white. In that moment, Ashley could feel the hatred emanating off of her, an emotion thicker and darker than professional dislike, a feeling directed entirely at Candice Michelle.

She looked up at Stephanie's face again, and saw the other woman's features twitch, as though she was struggling to hold back her emotions with everything she had. An image flashed into the rookie Diva's mind—that inky black shadow slithering across the floor—and she wondered why it had. As she did, she experienced a brief flash of insight: the shadow and Stephanie McMahon were somehow connected.

The thought promptly disappeared, filing itself away in the back of her subconscious, and Ashley pulled herself back to the present. Only a few seconds had gone by; for some reason, it seemed like an eternity. Finally, Stephanie straightened up a little, drawing her clipboard against her chest. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line. Spinning around on her heel, she strode off in the opposite direction, leaving Ashley alone with the two Smackdown Divas, as well as the sense that Candice had just unknowingly escaped possible danger.

She didn't have time to wonder about the former GM's strange behavior, because Candice's voice was in her ear again, its sweetness far more unsettling than the cruelty it had held yesterday. "So…_Ash_…how _are_ you? Last time we saw you, you were running down the hall looking like a wet cat." She took a step back from Ashley, looking her up and down appraisingly. "I have to admit, though, you clean up pretty good."

"_Love _the hat," Torrie chimed in from her other side. "_Very_ Punky Brewster."

Ashley would have been less repulsed by cockroaches crawling up and down her body. She abruptly moved away from the other Divas. "Okay, personal space—_personal space_!" She whirled around, fixing both of them with a glare. "What the _fuck_—what, are you both so bored over on Smackdown, you have to come over here to amuse yourselves?"

Neither Torrie nor Candice seemed affected by her ire. Instead, they shot each other a measured look. "She hasn't heard," Torrie remarked calmly.

"Obviously," Candice answered.

Ashley's eyes swept from one to the other. "Heard what?" she demanded. "What are you talking about?"

The two Diva glanced at her again, and this time, Torrie smiled. In her gold top and white pants, with her blond curls framing her perfect features, she should have looked like an angel. But her azure eyes remained like glittering chips of ice, the only indication of the malicious soul she possessed. "As of tonight…Candice and I are officially part of the Raw roster."

Ashley felt all the color drain from her face. Inside her, something clenched tight like a fist. Torrie and Candice—the two people who had gone out of her way to make her life miserable—here? On Raw? This had to be some sort of sick joke…

"What's the matter, Ash?" Candice spoke now. The brunette Diva's expression was still innocent, but the spiteful glint in her eyes told Ashley that she was enjoying her discomfort. "You don't look very happy to see us."

Ashley tried to swallow, her throat suddenly devoid of moisture. "How—"

"Oh, it's simple," Torrie replied. She took a step toward Ashley, and the Diva Search winner involuntarily took one back. Torrie didn't seem to mind. "See, the powers-that-be decided it would be weird to have two Diva Search winners on one brand, so they sent Stacy Keibler and Christy Hemme to Smackdown, and sent _us_…" She shrugged. "Well, you know."

The knot in Ashley's stomach began to ease, replaced by a surge of annoyance. Annoyance…and anger. She found her voice. "So? What do you want this time?" she retorted. "Who do you want me to make out with now? Wait, you know what? It doesn't even matter." The rookie Diva threw her arms up. "Screw you both; I'm outta here."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Candice's tone was coaxing, wheedling. She quickly moved up to Ashley, linking her arm through the Diva Search winner's. "About last night—Torrie and I…we were out of line."

"_No_! Really?" Ashley answered sarcastically, but Torrie cut her off.

"In fact," the blond Diva continued. "We felt _so_ bad about we did last night that as _soon_ as we got here, we went right to Steph McMahon to see what we could do to make it up to you."

"So _I _suggested—and Steph agreed—why not let the two of _us_ introduce you tonight on Raw?" Candice didn't give Ashley a chance to interject again. "After all, Torrie and Candice—the two Divas too hot for network television—who better to introduce the newest addition to the Diva roster?"

"And since then, we've been searching _everywhere_ so we can give you the good news. We checked the women's locker room, but the only person we found in there was _Maria_." Torrie made a face. "_She _wasn't very much _fun_."

Ashley remembered how skittish Maria had been, her large eyes full of fear. Fear of being hit—or something worse. So poor Maria Kanellis had been this pair's first victim. The rookie Diva felt a wave of sympathy for the backstage reporter. It didn't matter how Maria had acted toward her in the past; no one deserved to be treated like that.

Candice was staring expectantly at Ashley, as though awaiting her approval. "So what do you think?"

The Diva Search winner let out a harsh little laugh. "What do _I _think? I think you're both full of bullshit. I think you're going to jump me the moment I step in that ring."

The brunette Diva adopted a hurt expression. "C'mon, Ash, I know we were a little hard on you, but we were just having fun. Anyway," Candice pouted like a little girl. "Steph made us _promise_ to play nice."

Ashley looked back at her, her eyes narrowing. "I don't believe you," she finally said, her voice harsh. "I don't _trust_ you…_either_ of you."

"Too bad." In a flash, all the warmth had dissipated from Candice's voice, her nasal Midwestern tone giving it a brittle quality. The smile was still on her face, but it was no longer sweet. This smile was lean and predatory, providing just the slightest hint of an uglier being lurking just beneath those beautiful features. "Because you don't really have a choice anymore, do you?" She leaned closer, uttering one final statement before sauntering away. "_See you in the ring_."


	6. Chapter 6: Only The Beginning

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far! Thanks for bearing with me! Peace!**

**A/A/N: I want to apologize for the ungodly amount of Candice and Torrie that appear in this chapter. My only consolation: it will get better, just be patient.**

* * *

Chapter 6: Only The Beginning

Ashley waited patiently in gorilla, standing a foot or two behind the black curtain, listening to (and frequently rolling her eyes at) Torrie and Candice sing their own praises in the ring. She was only half-listening; she had tuned out when Candice started claiming that she was too hot for network television. That thought alone was enough to make the rookie Diva almost choke on her suppressed laughter. Candice was too _something_, all right—too obnoxious, too whiny, too much of a slut and a spoiled brat to be taken seriously. But as for too hot for network TV—the brunette Diva must have convinced herself that her GoDaddy ads were documentaries, with the events shot in real time.

For not the first time, Ashley felt trepidation ripple across her insides. She still couldn't shake the feeling that she was stepping into a trap. Based on what had happened last night, her fears were well grounded, but nonetheless, the Diva Search winner hated herself for allowing them to influence her. Candice Michelle and Torrie Wilson—they were like the worst sort of people from her adolescence; the popular girls who looked down on anyone who wasn't exactly like them. These girls preyed on those from less desirable social cliques, tormenting them like a child pulling off the wings of a fly.

Ashley had managed to shrug off those particular bullies in high school—but now, years later, she had somehow run afoul of this new breed of stuck-up bitches. It wasn't hard to see how it had happened. In high school, she really hadn't given a fuck what people thought of her, but here, her inexperience and her yearning for acceptance had made her easy prey.

It wasn't the bucket of water or even that ridiculous "initiation" that made her angry about the whole situation; it was the fact that she hadn't walked away when she had the chance. A couple years ago, she never would have allowed herself to trust someone like Torrie, yet she had let the other Diva lure her into a compromising situation, one which could ended a whole lot worse for her if Victoria had been just a little bit quicker. They had gotten to her; they had inadvertently discovered a chink in her armor, and they were going to do all they could to locate that weakness a second time.

And now she didn't even have the option of walking away. Her debut on Raw was going to be at the mercy of those two harpies out there, whether she liked it or not. They were smart; she had to give them that. Not only were they placing her in a situation where she couldn't express how she _really_ felt about them, but they were increasing the potential for humiliation. When Candice had dumped cold water over her, maybe half a dozen people had seen it happen. Now, if she fell on her ass getting into the ring, the whole world would bear witness. And the pragmatist in Ashley did not like those odds.

Candice apparently had finished, because now Torrie picked up the thread of conversation. "Ladies and gentlemen," she crowed. "The 2005 Raw Diva Search winner…_Ashley Massaro_!" Either by accident or deliberately, she mispronounced Ashley's surname, slurring it into a garbled single syllable.

The rookie Diva grimaced, but didn't have time to dwell on this because her music hit almost immediately; "Be Yourself" by Audioslave. Not what she would have chosen, personally, but not too bad. Besides, as the newbie, she was lucky she had music at all.

Ashley pushed aside the curtain, striding out to the top of the Titantron ramp in a blur of light and color, the music of her theme song blaring in her ears. She pumped both fists into the air, not having to fake the huge smile on her face. She still hadn't gotten used to walking out into an arena and seeing hundreds, even thousands, of fans spread out before her. Maybe it was something that, as a Superstar or Diva, you never really got over. Either way, just seeing all those cheering faces filled her with a rush of adrenaline and elation; a feeling that she never wanted to go away.

Toward the back, she caught a glimpse of a sign, its brightly colored lettering proclaiming "Ashley #1". The Diva Search winner's grin grew even wider. _These_ were the people that mattered. _These_ were the ones that wanted her here, even if no one did. No matter what turn her career would take from this point on, the fans would always stand out as the ones who had believed in her first.

The rookie Diva almost skipped down to the ring. Inside the squared circle, she could see Torrie and Candice standing side by side, both smiling and clapping politely. There was no sign of the thinly veiled contempt they had both regarded her with before they had walked out of gorilla. As far as the audience was concerned, the three of them were meeting for the first time.

Ashley paused to slap a few low-fives at ringside before jogging up the steel steps and slipping between the ropes. Moving quickly over to the other Divas, she enveloped first Candice, then Torrie, in an enthusiastic hug. Personally, she would have preferred to greet them each with an elbow to the jaw, but unfortunately, that was out of the question. However, she did take pleasure in feeling each Diva tense for a heartbeat or two before tentatively returning the embrace, and knew that she had unnerved them. Good. Maybe the more she threw them off balance, the less success they would have at subjecting her to a second assault.

The Diva Search winner stepped back, accepting a microphone from Torrie and stopping to catch her breath. "Well," she finally said, hoping she sounded a whole lot more sincere than she felt. "I have to say that it is _such_ a huge honor for me to be standing in this ring with you guys right now." This, of course, was a complete lie. Ashley went on. "Not only do I get to follow in the footsteps of Christy Hemme, but I get to share the ring with you guys." This was crap as well, something one of the creative team writers had asked her to say. Ashley thought it was one of the stupidest things she had ever heard, but she uttered it anyway, knowing that lumping these two in with Christy would undoubtedly piss them off.

She was right; Candice's dark eyes flared and for just a second, her winning smile vanished. Ashley could only hope that the cameras had caught it. Behind her, the fans cheered and she joined them for a second or two, driving her fist into the air.

"Well, Ashley—" For a moment, the crowd drowned out Torrie, and she had to raise her voice to be heard. "Ashley, Candice and I know that you're going to fit in _great_ here, and if you can win the Diva Search contest—" She paused for a fraction of a second. "You can fit in _right _ _with us_. Isn't that right, Candice?" Something about her words, something in the way she said "right", gave off an aura of mild warning. For the first time since walking out there, Ashley felt the first small pinpricks of uncertainty.

"That's right," Candice replied smoothly, moving to stand a little between Ashley and Candice. The brunette Diva wore a black catsuit that seemed to reveal more than it actually covered up. "I mean, that had to be a _really _hard contest, 'cause I know _I_ didn't get any oversized novelty checks." She glanced at her cohort. "Did _you_, Torrie?"

"No," Torrie answered sweetly. "I think I missed that one." The two Divas laughed at this, and Ashley joined them, albeit a little reluctantly. She couldn't shake the feeling that the first shot had just been fired, and that whatever followed would be the battle. But even if it was, this was her Raw debut, damnit. She was not going to let these two bitches intimidate her with their vague innuendoes.

"Well," Ashley eventually spoke up. "If you guys don't mind—" She turned toward the right side of the arena, uttering her next words with complete sincerity. "I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the fans for putting me here." Cheers of adulation rose up from the crowd. "Thank you so much, guys!" the Diva Search winner called out. "I promise, I'm gonna try my hardest to return the favor!" The cheering increased in volume, and in that moment, Ashley gave herself over to it, a huge smile spreading over her face.

Then, in the midst of that perfect moment, Candice's voice intruded, its falsely apologetic tone sounding like the world's biggest buzzkill. "Well…Ashley…we were actually thinking that…" She moved closer to Ashley, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently with her index finger. The brunette Diva looked out at the Hampton crowd, her brow creasing in what could have been a frown. "Maybe you could return that favor _right now_!"

There it was again, that subtle threat, that warning. Whatever these two were planning, it was happening now. Ashley looked over at the fans once more before focusing her gaze back on Candice, making sure to keep the smile on her face, making sure neither woman could guess just how wise she was to their game. She stared hard at Candice, hoping that her nervousness was not showing itself in her eyes. _Go on_…she urged silently. _Go on and try to hit me, you bitch_…

The rookie Diva was so focused on Candice that she never saw Torrie's boot coming toward her, its stiletto heel connecting solidly with her abdomen. The pain was sharp and immediate, knocking Ashley down to one knee, almost into a fetal position. For a few gut-wrenching seconds, she was sure she was going to throw up all over the canvas. All around her, the cheers of the crowd turned to gasps of surprise, then, after several moments, choruses of booes.

Ashley swung her head up, trying to will herself back up into a vertical position, where at least she would have a fighting chance. But her body refused to obey her. Her midsection was afire with pain; it was like the world's worst cramps.

Both Candice and Torrie backed up a few paces, staring at her and _laughing_, as though the Diva Search winner before them was nothing more than a new toy to play with. Torrie looked at her friend, pointing at Ashley as if to say _You want to take a shot at her_?

The brunette Diva didn't hesitate; she stormed toward Ashley, just as the rookie Diva had managed to push herself back up to both feet. The slap that connected with her left ear knocked her back to her knees again. Ashley's whole head seemed to be ringing, her equilibrium disrupted.

Now Torrie was at her side again, slapping the baseball cap from her head with a gesture of disdain. Reaching down with both hands, she grabbed Ashley by the hair, hauling her painfully up to her feet again. The Diva Search winner could barely stand; just the act of straightening her body shot lightning bolts of pain up and down her abdomen. Torrie's face was in hers, her expression of angelic amusement made all the more monstrous by the fact that _this_ was what was amusing her. To the fans, it must have looked like Torrie was talking trash, and in a sense, she was, because this was what came out of her mouth, her tone cold and calm:

"We said we'd play nice; we didn't say for _how long_."

With that, she half-threw, half-pushed Ashley backward. The rookie Diva flew, hitting the mat spine-first, her skull connecting painfully with the canvas. Her skirt flew up around her waist, giving Hampton and the rest of the world a great view of her underwear. She gripped the back of her head with one hand; the other was still clutching her abdomen. The world had become a strange haze of pain and noise, the jeering of the fans mixed in with the R & B theme of someone's entrance theme. Up above her, she saw the harsh hot glare of the lights, and squinted her eyes against the blinding blaze.

Then a figure appeared, a black form blotting out the light. For a single hallucinatory second, Ashley was convince it was the dark shadow from yesterday, but no, it was merely Candice. The dark-haired Diva bent down, her face absolutely stunning even with its expression of cruel amusement. It was amazing how she could make even evil look good. Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she blew a kiss in Ashley's direction; the final insult to injury. Her mouth moved, forming words that Ashley couldn't hear but could pretty much guess:

"_See you around_…"

* * *

Ashley staggered down the hall, one hand pressed to her side. Her midsection still ached from that nasty kick, but it had subsided enough to allow her to walk without difficulty. Her head was throbbing, but it was nothing that a few aspirin wouldn't cure. Anyway, none of her physical injuries hurt so much as the grievous wound to her pride. It was shame and anger that was making her insides throb; shame and anger that was tying her stomach in knots.

Tonight was supposed to be _her_ night, her chance to make a good impression on the Raw crowd and let them know that they had picked the right candidate. Instead, she had ended ass-up on the canvas, gasping for breath, trying not to puke, all while those two hyenas backed up the ramp, pointing at her and laughing as if she was the world's biggest joke. Which, to them at least, she was.

Ashley had realized then, with that sort of clarity that comes only with hindsight, that this was only the beginning—that Torrie and Candice were not going to stop until they damn well pleased.

The rookie Diva squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't care anymore. Right now, all she wanted to do was grab an icepack and some aspirin, then find a quiet corner from which to watch the main event.

It was then that she heard the shouting; several male voices raised loudly in argument. The noise seemed to be coming from the trainer's room right up the hall. Even though she had been looking for the trainer, Ashley slowed as she approached the room, not wanting to intrude. But natural curiosity won out, and she peeked around the corner.

From her vantage point, she saw the trainer, along with Dr. Rico, the company physician, and a younger man wearing an EMS uniform. They were all clustered around a seated figure, but Ashley couldn't see who it was.

"Come on, Matt!" This was the trainer. "If you don't hold still and let us stitch this thing up, you're gonna bleed out all over this floor."

"Where is he?" The voice that answered came from the seated figure. It was a male voice, tinged with a slight Southern accent, and slurred, as though its owner had tossed back one too many. "Where's that _bastard_ Adam? I'll fucking kill him—"

"Easy, Matt," Dr. Rico cut in. "You're not killing anybody, especially not in your condition."

Ashley moved cautiously to the center of the doorway, then took a few steps into the room itself. The men were all crowded at the far end; they had yet to even notice her presence. As she watched, the trainer moved to the side, giving her a clear view of their difficult patient.

Matt Hardy's face was more red than white by now. Blood still oozed from an ugly gash in his forehead, the object of the medical team's ministrations. Yet he still struggled, resisting all attempts to be patched up. The sight of blood had never phased Ashley and she moved a little closer, taking care not to make any noise.

As she did so, Matt's eyes shot up, locking onto hers. They were glassy and dark with pain, but yet they still managed to burn with an intensity of emotion that Ashley felt on the other side of the room. _Fuck the world…_those eyes said. _Fuck the world that turned its back on me_. And that was something that the Diva Search understood, perhaps better than any of the other people in the room. It was as though Matt Hardy's eyes mirrored her own soul. In that moment, a sense of kinship passed between them, a mutual understanding. _I understand your suffering, because I too have suffered…_

The Superstar froze, perhaps just as dumbstruck as she at seeing his own thoughts reflected back at him. Ashley involuntarily gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. It was too late; the other three men turned around in surprise, seeing her for the first time.

The trainer was the first to move, taking hold her arm and pulling her gently but firmly toward the door. "You shouldn't be in here," he told her, not without some compassion.

"No…" From across the room, Matt reached out toward her retreating form. "Don't—" He fell silent, too drained to finish vocalizing the thought.

The trainer was still talking to Ashley, half under his breath. "—Nothing you need to see—" Ashley wanted to pull free, but she was too stunned to react.

Dr. Rico spoke as well. "Tell her to wait out in the hall--"

"Excuse me," For the first, the paramedic spoke, his voice a patient resigned baritone. He looked from the doctor to the trainer. "In case either of you haven't noticed, since he's seen her, it's the first time he's sat still." His eyes drifted over to Ashley. "As far as I'm concerned, if she can handle it, let her stay."

The trainer paused, looking down at the blond Diva before him. "Are you all right with this?" he asked, a trifle gruffly, gesturing at the bloody Superstar several feet away.

Wordlessly, Ashley nodded. With a little reluctance, the trainer released his hold on her arm, and slowly, hesistantly, she walked over to the cot where Matt Hardy sat. Dr. Rico pulled up a folding chair for her, and Ashley took a seat, a little off to the side, her knees touching Matt's.

Matt watched her sit, then slowly extended his hand toward her, the palm facing up. He spoke, obviously with some effort. "I'm Matt."

Ashley smiled, a small but warm smile. "I'm Ashley," she whispered. Reaching over, she grasped his hand, feeling his fingers close around hers in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Nice…to meet…you," Matt managed to say, before Dr. Rico interrupted.

"That's enough for now, Matt; you can talk to her all you want once we've got you stitched up."

Matt's mouth closed, but Ashley felt his hand tighten briefly around hers. The paramedic began his work, and while Matt never once uttered a cry of pain, he did squeeze Ashley's hand every time the needle passed in and out of his flesh.

His eyes never left her face.


	7. Chapter 7: Mutual Attraction

**A/N: Once again, I want to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I have had so much crap to deal with in terms of grad school stuff, and then to add to that, I had such trouble writing this chapter that you would not believe. But here it is, so (hopefully!) enjoy! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed the story so far; you all are wonderful! Peace! **

Chapter 7: Mutual Attraction

Ashley tugged the suitcase behind her fiercely, the piece of luggage tilting up dangerously on one wheel, threatening to tip over as she took corners with a vengeance. The corridors were more or less deserted; most of the Superstars had departed by now, heading home for a few days of much-deserved rest. The few that she passed by gave her a wide berth, the expression of grim determination on her face deterring any goodbyes.

The rookie Diva didn't care; she had stopped caring the second Torrie's boot had slammed into her abdomen. A two-on-one assault in the center of the ring tended to make one less forgiving of others. Besides, better to keep her eyes on the ground than look up and catch a glimpse of that emotion she loathed most of all, the singular sentiment she had been spotting in everyone's gaze since her disastrous segment had ended: pity.

To Ashley, that emotion was more insulting than indifference or even dislike. Pity implied a kind of disappointment; a feeling which the rookie Diva was already feeling in abundance. She was well aware that she had been tested tonight and had failed miserably; she didn't need the entire roster's bland condescending sympathy.

Ashley recalled the Diva Search, all the weird and downright ridiculous challenges she had let herself be subjected to. Her lips curved upward in a humorless smile. _Funny how they never taught us anything useful…_she thought grimly to herself. _Like how to throw a forearm or how to defend yourself on your first night…_Hell, she had spent most of her time in her underwear or a bikini!

_That contest never taught us how to survive…_Ashley suddenly surmised. _They taught us how to smile and look pretty, but they never taught us how to be Divas._ And what had she received for all that hot dog eating and bikini modeling? What had been her _real_ prize? To become a glorified scratching post for the heel Divas to sharpen their claws on, a punching bag, a chew toy. And until Ashley learned to defend herself, she had a lot of claw marks to look forward to.

The rookie Diva gritted her teeth. She was not going to spend her career in the WWE being Candice Michelle's bitch. Somewhere on this roster, there had to be _someone_ willing to train her, someone who saw her not as a contest winner, but as a _Diva_. And Ashley was going to find them, whoever they turned out to be. But until then, everyone else and their damned pity could go to hell.

By now, the Diva Search winner had reached the parking lot, crossing the wide expanse of concrete to her car. She stopped and fumbled in her bag for her key, wondering why she hadn't thought to pull it out when she was still back in the locker room. Ashley was so focused on the task that when she felt the light touch on her arm, she almost screamed. Drawing in her breath sharply, she whirled around to face a startled Matt Hardy.

The Raw Superstar backed away a pace or two, holding up his hands. "Sorry…didn't mean to scare you like that."

Ashley was pretty sure that her expression mirrored Maria's wide-eyed one from earlier, and quickly forced a smile onto her face. "It's nothing; I was just…spacing out." Her eyes swept over his face. With his forehead bandaged and his dark hair slicked back into a ponytail, the young man standing in front of her was a far cry from the bloodied, wild-eyed Superstar sitting in the trainer's room. Ashley pulled her gaze back to his. "So…how's the head?" As soon as the words were out, she almost winced at how indelicate they sounded.

If Matt took offense, he didn't show it. "Other than the soccer player trying to kick his way out of my skull, not too bad. Right now, I kinda just want to swallow a bottle of aspirin, crawl into bed, and sleep for about a week."

Ashley offered a nervous smile, not even sure if that last comment was intended to be funny. "Yeah…I know what you mean."

Matt's mouth curled in a quick grin, so quick she almost missed it. A flash of teeth and then it was gone. The Raw Superstar looked down at the floor, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. "Listen…" He hesitated, as though he was trying to work up the courage to utter his next words. "I wanted to thank you for what you did…you know…sitting with me…back there." He looked back up, and his dark eyes bore into hers. "I know that watching someone get his head stitched isn't exactly your idea of a great night."

"It's nothing." Ashley replied, then realized how cold that sounded. "The blood, I mean." she quickly added. "I mean, it doesn't bother me, so…" She trailed off before any more of her sentence could dissolve into incoherent fragments of syllables. God, what was _wrong_ with her?

"I know what you meant." Matt answered quietly, the Southern drawl making the words sound almost musical. He didn't smile, but there was a warm understanding in his eyes now. He shot his gaze down towards the floor again, as though its cement surface was somehow mesmerizing. "It's just…there aren't a lot of girls who would do something like that…especially for me." That last part was so soft that Ashley almost thought that she had imagined it.

The rookie Diva felt a wave of empathy wash over her as she remembered that in a way, Matt Hardy was just as much an outcast on Raw as she was. Without really knowing why, she took a cautious step toward him, then another. Reaching out, she touched his cheek, her fingertips grazing his skin. At this simple contact, the Raw Superstar glanced up in surprise, but unlike Randy Orton had yesterday, he didn't shy away from Ashley's touch. His eyes locked with hers, and again, Ashley felt that sense of understanding pass between them. The skin beneath her fingers suddenly grew hot to the touch, and the rookie Diva pulled her hand back, dropping it down at her side again. She looked down, but she could still feel his eyes on her, and her own face began to burn.

"Well," There was a note of forced cheerfulness in Matt's voice, as though whatever had just happened between them hadn't really happened at all. "I don't know about you, but I've got a flight home to catch. See you…Friday?" He ducked his head down a little, trying to meet Ashley's eyes once more.

The Diva Search winner glanced up, and managed a smile even though her face was bright red. "Friday," she repeated, trying to sound nonchalant. "See you then."

Matt nodded. "See ya, Ashley," Another swift grin, and then he turned around, heading toward the other side of the parking garage with his suitcase in tow.

Ashley turned toward her car, resting both hands on the trunk and leaning forward. Off in the distance, she heard a car roar to life, then peel out of the garage into the night. Once the sounds of tires screeching died away, the rookie Diva let out her breath in one long exhalation.

What had happened with Matt Hardy had been unexpected, to say the least. Ashley certainly hadn't anticipated finding a kindred spirit, someone who understood disappointment as well as she did.

But that was really the understatement of the year, wasn't it? After losing his girlfriend, his best friend, and his job all within the span of a few months, it was safe to say that Matt Hardy knew a little something about being disappointed.

Ashley couldn't deny that there had been an instant connection between them…or that beneath that connection, there had been a small spark of physical attraction. There was nothing wrong with that. But Matt had just lost the love of his life to someone else, and Ashley…well, she couldn't get a certain Legend Killer out of her mind.

The rookie Diva was jarred out of her reverie by a vibrating sensation on her hip. Her cell phone was ringing. Ashley dug it out of her jeans pocket reluctantly. It was probably one of her family members, and as much as she loved and missed them, she really wasn't in the mood right now for a conversation about her well-being.

She glanced at the tiny screen, and the sound that escaped her throat was somewhere between a gasp and a groan. "Oh, you've gotta be fucking _kidding _me!" she exclaimed to the deserted garage. On the screen, flashing neon blue with each vibration of the phone, were the words _Randy Orton_.

When the Legend Killer had asked for her phone number last night, Ashley had been fully prepared to turn him down. However, when she opened her mouth, what came out was not a refusal, but rather the ten digits of her cell phone number. She had shrugged it off; after all, just because a guy had your number didn't mean he was going to call you back. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, had actually put it out of her head—and now, as though to defy all of her skepticism, here he was, calling her phone. But why?

Ashley flipped open the phone before the call could go to voice mail, and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Ashley?" Randy's voice sounded far away, so she plugged her finger into her other ear so she could hear him better. "Ash, you there?"

The Diva Search winner let her breath out quietly. Somehow, the deep timbre of Randy's voice had the power to both put her at ease and speed her pulse up. Maybe in the way he uttered that affectionate abbreviation of her first name…"Hey, Randy," she replied, trying to sound casual.

"Hey," For a second or two, Randy was silent, then he spoke again. "How's life on Raw treating you?"

Ashley laughed, albeit a little bitterly. "Not as great as I'd like, to be honest."

Randy joined in her laughter, but the sound of it was subdued. "Yeah, you sound kind of like I feel. I had a hell of a match tonight myself."

He paused again, but this time, the silence seemed to drag on and on, making Ashley a little uncomfortable. "Listen, Randy, I hate to be rude, but I've got a plane to catch and—"

"I know, that's why I was hoping to catch you before you left." Randy went on before Ashley could interrupt. "Listen, I know we only met just yesterday, and I know I'm going to sound like a total stalker for even saying this, but there's something that I really, _really_ want to ask you." The Legend Killer was actually babbling; Ashley hadn't even known that he was _capable_ of babbling.

Randy abruptly fell silent again, and now it was Ashley's turn to speak. "Ask me what?" she prompted him. There was no answer. The rookie Diva frowned. "Randy? Hello?" Still no answer. The rookie Diva pressed the phone closer to her ear, listening as hard as she could. All she heard on the other end of the phone was silence. "Hello? Hello? Are you there?" Ashley let out a tiny impatient sigh. It was probably the shitty reception in the garage interfering with the call.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned absently, thinking maybe it was one of the backstage personnel, stopping to see if she was all right. Her eyes widened and her lips formed a perfect "O" of astonishment when she met the amused azure gaze of the Legend Killer.

"Surprised?" Randy said softly, his mouth curving upward in an easy smile.

This time, Ashley _did_ scream, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. The cell phone slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto the floor. For one terrifying moment, she felt her heart stop, before resuming its rhythmic pounding. Ashley couldn't describe exactly what she felt at that moment—shock, fear, anger, elation—it was all a loud colorful jumble of sensation. She backed away from the Legend Killer, one hand still pressed to her mouth. "What…How…"

Randy didn't attempt to move toward her; he merely held up his hands in a concillatory gesture. "Okay, I'm sorry, that was mean. I didn't mean to scare you like that; I just wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you did a great job of that!" Ashley retorted, finally regaining her voice. She glared at Randy, a little accusingly. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

The Legend Killer didn't smile; only gazed back at her. "I came here to see you." he replied, his voice absolutely serious.

Ashley tried to speak, but found that she had nothing to say. That statement should have creeped her out, should have at least labeled Randy as a stalker, but it did neither. There was a sincerity and an earnestness in his face and voice that gave power to his words, and despite logic telling her that she shouldn't believe him, Ashley realized that she did. "Why?" she finally managed to blurt out.

Randy looked at her, his eyes erasing any further attempts at speech. His voice was low, and his words came out almost in a rush. "Because—as crazy as it sounds—I couldn't stop thinking about you…and I wanted to see you again."

The simple honesty in that statement hit Ashley almost as hard as Torrie's boot, and she found herself struggling for breath. So, whatever she was feeling towards the Legend Killer…it was mutual, to say the least. However, her residual shock and anger over Randy's little joke were enough to override any initial feelings of elation or triumph. "So, what?" she shot back, her voice more than a little harsh. "You come here, you scare the everliving _fuck_ out of me—just to tell me that?"

For the first time, Randy's mouth began to form a smile again. "That…and to invite you to the SmackDown taping tomorrow."

This time, Ashley actually gasped. "_What_?!" she exclaimed, blinking very hard in disbelief.

Randy held up his hand. "Hear me out: the taping's in Norfolk this week, that's only a twenty minute drive from here—I checked it out on my GPS. You can drive down tonight or tomorrow. I'll pay for your plane ticket if you need to cancel; I'll even pay for a hotel room—"

"Whoa, whoa, Randy, stop!" Ashley interjected. "Just stop, okay?" Randy obeyed her, falling silent. For several long moments, she stared back at the Legend Killer, trying to quell the maelstrom of thought swirling around her brain. "You really want me to come, don't you?" Randy didn't speak this time, only nodded. Ashley looked up toward the fluorescent lights set in the ceiling, a little wild laugh escaping her. "This is crazy…" she muttered, half to him, half to herself. At least, that was what her common sense was telling her. Her heart, on the other hand…her heart was telling her that maybe, just maybe, this was the one thing so far that made sense.

The Diva Search winner looked back down, her gaze focused on a point somewhere in the distance. "I need to make some phone calls…" she murmured, still more to herself than to him. She glanced over at Randy, still waiting expectantly for her answer, and let her mouth curl into a playful smile. "Throw dinner in there, and you've got yourself a date."

* * *

Ashley pulled into the parking garage at the back of the Scope Arena, the nervousness in her stomach threatening to overtake her. She had been all right during dinner last night, during the drive to Norfolk, and during her stay in yet another hotel room. But now, in the early afternoon on Tuesday, all the doubts and fears she had suppressed came roaring back, threatening to bring her lunch up with them.

She still couldn't believe that she was doing this; dropping everything and visiting the other WWE brand at the invitation of a man she barely knew. Ashley had done some wild things in her adolescence and early twenties, but she couldn't recall doing anything quite as crazy as this. What if someone on Raw found out? What if she got trouble because of this? More importantly--_why was she still going through with this_?

The rookie Diva pulled into an empty space, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine. For a long time, she sat there, both hands on the steering wheel, taking deep breath after deep breath. Well, it was now or never at this point. Opening the car door, Ashley stepped out, surveying the scene around her. She didn't see anyone she recognized, not even a Diva or Superstar she had met the night before. The Diva Search winner looked around helplessly, the sinking feeling in her stomach becoming more and more uncomfortable.

"Ashley?" She didn't recognize the voice that uttered her name, but the fact that _they_ must have recognized _her_ gave her a little bit of relief. Ashley turned to see the World Heavyweight Champion coming her, a pair of designer sunglasses propped up on his head.

The rookie Diva's welcoming smile faded a touch. She had overheard a few stories about Batista, none of them very flattering. Apparently, SmackDown's Animal was a bit of a manwhore. However, she still stuck out her hand when he came up to her. "That's me."

Batista took her hand in his, giving it a quick but firm shake. "Dave. Nice to meet you." He held onto her hand just a little longer than she would have liked, his eyes taking a subtle sweep of her body, clad in jeans and a black corset top. There was a confidence in his eyes that she instinctively didn't like, as though all he would have to do was look at her and her panties would instantly hit the floor. Guess those stories must actually be true. "Randy's told me a lot about you."

"Has he?" Ashley replied sweetly, wondering how she could extricate her hand without offending him. Luckily, the Animal released his grip, and the Diva Search winner brought it back to her side, hoping that one really couldn't catch an STD through a handshake. "Did he send you to get me?"

Batista nodded. "Yeah, they're taping his promo right now, so he asked me to escort you to the women's locker room, and he'll swing by and get you later." He turned around, heading toward the arena. "Follow me."

Ashley followed him, glad at least that she was behind him. They walked down the hallway, skirting crew members and pieces of equipment. The rookie Diva kept her gaze forward, unable to meet the questioning stares of Superstars she passed. She was so intent, though, that she didn't notice the Animal had come to a halt until she almost collided with his massive back.

"Dave, do you have a minute? We need to go over this segment." Ashley realized that Batista had just been accosted by one of the creative team members.

To his credit, the Animal eyed the writer with impatience, gesturing over his shoulder at the Diva Search winner. "Could this wait, man? I'm in the middle of something--"

"Dave, it'll just take a few minutes, I swear; Steph just wants to make sure that you know what's going on tonight."

Batista sighed, frustrated. He turned back toward Ashley. "Look, Ash, I'm sorry, but this guy is not going to leave me alone until I go over this thing. Do you want to hang around or do you want me to find someone else to show where the locker room is?"

Ashley opened her mouth to speak, but as she did, the whole world fell silent and a familiar whisper brushed past her ear.

_"Ashley_..."

The rookie Diva blinked, wondering if she had just imagined it. She turned, looking around. There was no one behind her, no one, at least, who would want to get her attention. Turning back, she noticed the Animal was still waiting for an answer, and quickly pasted a smile on her face. "It's cool; I'll just find it on my own."

Batista's brow creased in mild concern. "You sure?"

Ashley nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to be wrestling here one day; I might as well--"

"_Ashley_..."

"--learn where everything is." she finished, hoping she didn't sound as spooked as she sounded. This time, the whisper had come just around the nearest corner.

The Animal stared at her for a long moment. "All right then, if you're sure. It's right down--" But Ashley had already disappeared.

* * *

The Diva Search winner turned corner after corner, following a voice that seemed to echo in her ear with every beat of her heart. The sound of it, as well as the silence surrounding it, was like a pulse, throbbing in and out of her mind. It was as though the figure uttering that whisper was calling the entire world into stillness, just so it could murmur Ashley's own name into her ear.

"_Ashley_..."

The rookie Diva was well aware that this was crazy--no, impossible, but yet her feet still moved of their own accord, answering a call that her mind could not understand.

"_Ashley_..."

She finally turned onto a small side hallway, each end of it opening up to a T-junction in both directions. Ashley looked down the hallway, then glanced back from where she had came. The atmosphere around her was still, not that unnatural silence, merely the stillness of deserted space.

As she did, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, her body sensing a presence her eyes had yet to glimpse. Ashley heard nothing: no movement, no rustle of clothing, no breath, but yet she knew that someone was behind her. Turning around slowly, she kept her gaze on the floor, unable for some reason to look up. Her eyes lit upon a pair of feet, clad in black boots. The edge of a long coat hung around them, the color of it also black.

The Diva Search winner finally looked up, all thoughts driven from her mind as she stared into the cold blue eyes of the Undertaker.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8: Interrupted Moments

**A/N: SO SORRY about the wait; I hit a bad patch for a while and didn't want to do much of anything, including write. Also, I've been having trouble plotting out the flow of the story. But I'm back, with a vengeance, and a new chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who's read and reviewed. Your feedback and your comments really mean a lot to me! So, enjoy! Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 8: Interrupted Moments

The Diva Search winner moved back a pace, her entire body numb. It was as though she was paralyzed from the neck down; she didn't even feel her foot touch the floor. All she could see, all she was aware of, was the icy penetrating gaze of the Deadman.

Ashley swallowed with effort; her mouth felt like it was coated in sandpaper. Slowly, hesitantly, she extended her hand. She could see her entire arm trembling. "Hi, I-I'm Ashley Massaro." Her voice came out as a terrified squeak. She wanted to add "Nice to meet you," but the words stuck in her throat, refusing to be vocalized.

The Undertaker didn't answer, didn't even take her hand. Instead, he stared down at the shaking limb as though the entire concept of shaking hands was completely foreign to him. The rookie Diva let her arm fall back to her side, trying not to whimper as the 'Taker's gaze slid back up to her face. There was such a total absence of _anything_ in those eyes—warmth, emotion, humanity—that just meeting them was horrifying. It was as though she was staring into a bottomless void.

The Deadman took a step toward her, but Ashley didn't actually see him move. All she knew was that in an instant, he had closed a little bit of the distance between them. She could hear an eerie high-pitched humming in her ears, drowning out everything else. There was a prickling sensation all over her body, as though an electrical current was crawling across her skin. She was being drawn into the 'Taker's eyes, like black holes that sucked in everything, including light. The Diva Search winner had the sensation of falling, of sinking down toward the ground, and even though her eyes never left his, she could still see his hand reaching for her, the gloved fingers outstretched—

"Ashley? Ash, you back here?"

Randy's voice, filled with more than a little concern, cut through the mesmerizing haze, shattering her paralysis. The rookie Diva turned away from the black-clad figure before her, calling out with obvious relief: "Yeah, I'm over here."

A second later, the Legend Killer appeared from around the corner, Batista right behind him. The instant he spotted her, his face lit up. A few quick strides, and he was in front of her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "What are you doing all the way back here?" There was nothing accusing in his voice, only an amused bewilderment.

Ashley forced a smile, trying to look as casual as she could. She was still incredibly shaken from her encounter with the Undertaker, and the feeling of Randy's hand on her was equally distracting, although in a very different sense. "Would you believe that I got lost?" she joked, amazed that her voice sounded a whole lot more normal than she felt.

Randy nodded, his features crinkling in a grin. "You're not the first one. You wouldn't _believe_ how many arenas I've gotten lost in over the years." His eyes left hers, staring at a point over her shoulder. "I thought I heard your voice—were you talking to someone?"

Part of Ashley wanted to ask how he could have possibly missed the imposing six-foot-ten figure standing directly behind her, but the other part—the part of her that had seen a lot of strange things in the past three days—knew that if she turned around, there would be nothing there. Just to test that theory, she shot a quick glance over her right shoulder.

The hallway behind her was empty.

Even though she had been expecting it, Ashley still felt her stomach give a sickening lurch. For a moment, her heartbeat sped up, became almost too fast, then slowed and returned to normal. She didn't want to think about what was going on, about why some shadowy specter seemed to be toying with her. Right now, she was with Randy, and that was all she cared about.

The Diva Search winner smiled, feeling like her skin was being stretched too tight across her face. "That? Oh, um…I was just…talking to myself. You know, just stupid stuff, like how I can read a map and drive, but I can't find my way around an arena."

For a second or two, an unreadable expression passed over Randy's face, as though he didn't believe her, but didn't have any reason to dispute her claim. The look quickly disappeared, however, like a cloud moving aside to reveal the sun. He didn't take his hand from her shoulder, but instead leaned closer, peering intently into her face. "Are you _sure_ you're all right? You look really pale."

"I-I'm fine," Ashley stammered, her nervousness now due to the close proximity of the Legend Killer. Almost on cue, she felt herself blushing. Well, at least she wasn't white as a sheet anymore. She couldn't tear her gaze away from Randy's eyes. They were blue like the Undertaker's, but there was life and laughter in those azure irises. There was depth in there as well, but it was a warm comforting depth that she was willing to fall into, willing to lose herself in—

A few feet away, Batista cleared his throat deliberately, startling both of them back to the present. Randy blinked, then shook his head slightly, as though he was coming out of a daze. He took his hand from Ashley's shoulder, moving back a few steps from the rookie Diva. "I was hoping to catch you right after I finished my promo, but _someone_—" He turned and shot a Look at the Animal. "—lost track of you."

"Hey, don't blame me!" the World Heavyweight Champion protested. "I got ambushed by one of the writers and she just dashed off! What was I supposed to do, chase her?"

Randy, however, had already turned back toward Ashley, rolling his eyes upward as if to say _Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one before…_ He moved closer, not touching her this time, but almost close enough to brush against her. "Listen, I'm in the opening match, so do you mind hanging out with the other Divas until it's over? I'll swing by and pick you up and we can grab an early dinner. How about it?"

"Steph's gonna bitch if you leave the show early again—" Batista started to interject.

"Yeah, well, Steph can take it up with me later," Randy cut him off. He gazed at Ashley. "Ash? How 'bout it?"

Ashley opened her mouth to say yes, even though it was unnecessary. The moment the Legend Killer had looked into her eyes, she knew that she would never be able to say no.

* * *

Dinner was low-key, just like before. Afterwards, the pair walked along the edge of the Elizabeth River, sharing equal moments of conversation and silence.

Randy stopped, turning and resting his elbows on the railing running along the edge of the path. He stared out across the inky black water, glittering with ripples of reflected light.

Ashley adopted a similar pose, gazing up at him a little uncertainly. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but there seemed to be a bitterness in his expression all of a sudden, a hard quality that had not been there a second ago.

Then the Legend Killer looked over at her, and his face was just as jovial as it had been before. "So…" he began. "At the risk of sounding like some high school jock who's desperate for attention…what did you think of my match?"

"It was…" The Diva Search winner nodded her head from side to side, trying to come up with an appropriate adjective. "_Interesting_." she finally said, all too aware that it was the same word that Randy had used to describe her.

Randy laughed. "Ah, I recognize that tone! So you didn't like it?"

"That's not what I meant!" Ashley protested. The truth was, she really wasn't sure how she felt about it. Tonight had been the first time she had been up close and personal with the two sides of Randy Orton. The arrogant asshole in the ring, utilizing his _father_ to help him win a match, was a far cry from the funny sweet guy who had taken her out to dinner after her first pay-per-view. It was a little like meeting both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and realizing they were the same person. And Ashley couldn't help but wonder just how much of the on-screen Randy was fake…and how much of the off-screen Randy was real.

"It was a culture shock," she admitted after a while. "I mean, talking to you before the show, and then seeing you cheat to win a match—"

"Okay, about that," the Legend Killer interrupted. "It was my dad's idea and I—"

Ashley held up her hand, indicating that she wasn't finished. "It's not that; I'm cool with that. You're a heel and you do whatever you have to to make the fans boo. But it's hard for me to get over the fact that you're two people. I mean, right now, I'm just one. What you see in the ring, out of the ring—you see Ashley, you see _me._ And I'm still getting used to the idea that everyone else here has more than one side." She glanced up at Randy, then down at her hands, at the black polish gracing her fingernails. "Sorry, I sound really naïve, don't I?"

"No," The Legend Killer shook his head. "No…it's kinda refreshing, actually." He grinned, the smile lighting up his handsome face like a beacon. "Maybe that's why I like you."

The moment he uttered those words, Ashley felt her heart skip a beat, literally. Slowly, she looked up, turning toward Randy. Their bodies were close, practically touching. Tilting her head up, she met his eyes. The yellow glow of the streetlights had robbed them of their hue, but not of their intensity.

Ashley took a cautious step forward, her body brushing his. A warm breeze picked up, lifting her blond tresses up slightly and blowing them back from her face. The wind seemed to swirl around the two of them, enclosing them in their own cocoon where nothing, not even the rest of the world, could intrude.

With movements that were just as hesitant as her own, Randy reached up, and cupped her cheek in his hand. The moment his palm touched her skin, Ashley heard herself gasp, a small sound that was almost like an escaping breath. She couldn't help it; Randy's touch—it was like coming home. All the confusing emotions she had been experiencing since meeting him had locked together, and for this moment at least, everything made sense.

Randy gazed down at her, not moving, not speaking. He looked confused; there seemed to be some internal struggle going on just beyond his expression. He leaned forward a little, and Ashley felt her eyes flutter closed, felt her lips part—

--And then the Legend Killer was moving back, taking his hand from her face, turning away to gaze out at the dark water once again. The light hit his face in such a way that only the clean edges of his profile were illuminated; the rest was in shadow. Ashley couldn't say anything; she was too busy stared at Randy in utter disbelief, wondering if she had just done something wrong.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Randy pushed his body back from the railing. "Come on, let's head back."

* * *

When Randy got back to his hotel room (planning to catch a good night's sleep before flying out in the morning), he was surprised to find his traveling companion and roommate there as well. The Animal was lying on one of the twin beds, reading a magazine with what could only be intense concentration.

The Legend Killer's surprise lasted only a moment, however. "Didn't expect to find you here," he said, snapping on the bathroom light and stepping inside.

"It's been a long week; I needed a rest," Batista replied. He glanced up from his magazine. "Though some of those girls at the arena were pretty hot. I could have had my pick tonight." His sharp featured face lapsed into an expression a few degrees removed from a leer. "You should get in on some of that action sometime."

"Ugh, no thanks," Randy called out from the bathroom. "Those girls have probably been screwing every guy on the indy circuit—Lord only knows what they've managed to pick up." Turning off the faucet, he stepped out into the main room, sinking down onto his own bed. "But speaking of girls…what did you think of Ashley?"

"She's cute," the Animal answered noncommittally. He turned a page. "Nice tits."

Randy looked over at his friend, his expression disgusted. "_Nice_. Real smooth there, Dave."

"You want my real opinion?" The World Heavyweight Champion sat up, tossing the periodical aside. He stared at the Legend Killer, his expression serious. "I think you made a big mistake by bringing her here."

Randy sat up as well. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb," The Animal's voice was low, terse. "You saw her in that hallway; she looked like a ghost. And the way she kept glancing over her shoulder—"

"So…what? You think she saw something? Is that what you're trying to say?" Randy interjected, his face beginning to turn red with anger.

Batista shrugged. "I don't know. You're more of an expert on him than I am."

The Legend Killer swung his legs to the edge of the bed, rising to his feet. He began to pace. "That's stupid," he remarked, half to Batista, half to himself. "He doesn't even know her—"

"Maybe not, but you keep parading her around here and he's gonna start putting two and two together pretty quick," the Animal shot back. "And if he finds out that you have feelings for her—"

"Stop!" Randy's voice was harsh, abrupt. He pointed at the World Heavyweight Champion. "Just stop, okay?" Batista obligingly fell silent. Randy looked down at the floor, running both hands through his short spiky hair. "He's not going to find out about her, okay?"

"Really?" Batista sounded dubious. He eyed his friend steadily. "How are you going to protect her when he _does_ find out?"

Randy glanced up, his blue eyes filled with something that could have been fear. "He's not going to find out," he repeated, but this time, there was no confidence in his voice.


	9. Chapter 9: Early Warning

**A/N: Guess who's back? These last few months have been unbelievably crazy, what with grad school and moving and finishing up at my different jobs. But now, I'm relocated, I'm in D.C., and in the meantime, I am working on updating my different stories. I'm also working on a series of song-fics (the Ipod challenge) based around Melina, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested. To all of the people that have read this from the beginning, who have continued to review despite my slow posting of chapters, you are unbelievably awesome! Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope to keep putting chapters out there! Enjoy! Peace!**

**A/A/N: I'm kind of rusty after two months, so I'm not as happy with this chapter as I'd like to be. Hope you like it!**

Chapter 9: Early Warning

Ashley braced herself with both hands and hopped up onto one of the black equipment crates, scooting backward until her shoulders hit the cinderblock wall. Plugging in one ear bud, then the other, she scrolled through her IPod menu before making a selection. Almost immediately, the frantic rhythms of a punk rock song poured into her ears. Instead of psyching her up, however, the harsh riffs of guitar and drums helped to calm her, bringing her back down to a state of almost Zen-like serenity.

The last three or four days had been a blur, a surreal passage of time that seemed more like a lengthy dream than an actual occurrence. Since Friday, the Raw roster had done one live event in Puerto Rico and two in Florida, culminating in tonight's television broadcast from Tampa. Not that Ashley could actually claim any real participation in any of the previous shows. Twice, she had gotten dressed up only to find out that she hadn't been booked for a match, and thus spent a long two-and-a-hours listening to music in the locker room. Halfway through last night's event in Orlando, she had been sent out to the ring with a t-shirt gun, instructed to smile and to watch where she aimed the thing. The rookie Diva had gritted her teeth at this, but in the end, she had done it, because as of right now, interacting with the fans was one of the few things that gave her any enjoyment anymore.

Just as she had feared, Candice and Torrie had taken last week's attack in the ring as an open invitation to terrorize the Diva Search winner. Most of it was stupid shit—stealing her towel while she was in the shower, "accidently" bumping into her in the hallway, dumping her suitcase's contents on the floor whenever she was out of the room. But behind the juvenile surface of these pranks, Ashley could sense real meanness, real animosity and dislike. She also sensed that as harmless as the incidents were, the other two Divas were escalating toward something bigger. Something that could and _would_ hurt.

The thing was, the rookie Diva would have been able to take all of this in stride—if she wasn't also trying to deal with a personal life that was confusing the hell out of her. Turning her head to the side, she glanced down at her cell phone resting next to her. Picking it up, she flipped it open and scrolled down to the "VOICE MAIL" option. Ashley moved her thumb to the "ENTER" button, started to press it…hesitated. After six days of going through this exact same routine, she already knew exactly what she was going to hear: that annoying automated female voice (why was it _always_ female?) telling her that she had no new messages. Still, the Diva Search winner's eyes remained glued to the screen. Her thumb found the "ENTER" button again, began to push it…

With trembling hands, Ashley snapped the phone shut, slamming it down onto the crate a little harder than she meant to. Since their awkwardly aborted moment by the river last week, Ashley had not heard from Randy Orton. Not one phone call, not one text message—it was as though she had never met him in the first place. Only the presence of his cell number in her phone's address book proved that their encounter at SummerSlam really had happened. More than once, Ashley had tried to delete his number, and every time, she had been unable to finish the job. Just like some deep-rooted compulsion had turned her into a voice-mail-checking-fiend, some sort of hidden hope was keeping her from deleting the Legend Killer from her life altogether.

What had happened out there that night? What had gone through Randy's mind to make him take that step back and then enforce this wall of silence between them?

_Isn't it obvious? _That voice in the back of her mind, that voice she had begun to hate, spoke up. _He doesn't like you, not like that_. The voice paused, then spoke again, this time sounding suspiciously like Candice Michelle. _Guys like THAT…don't go for girls like YOU._

"Shut up!" Ashley hissed, her gaze snapping to the right as though locking onto an actual person. With an angry gesture, she yanked the ear buds from her ears. "Shut up, you bitch!"

"But I haven't said anything yet." Stephanie's cool and perfectly modulated tone pierced through the haze of anger surrounding the rookie Diva. Ashley felt her jaw drop and slowly looked to her left, hoping that Steph's comment had been just a figment of her imagination. Unfortunately, the former General Manager of Smackdown was leaning casually against the crate right next to her, clad in a neatly tailored black business suit. Her delicately featured face was unreadable.

Ashley felt the color drain from her face. "I didn't—I mean—" she stammered.

For a moment or two, Stephanie's expression remained inscrutable, then relaxed into a reassuring smile. "I know you didn't," she replied. Leaning closer, she added in a conspiratorial whisper: "I argue with myself, too."

Ashley cracked a smile, but even Steph's assurance wasn't enough to completely dispel her feelings of nervousness. The younger McMahon sibling exuded an aura of confidence that the rookie Diva could only envy and admire.

The Billion Dollar Princess rotated a little, resting both elbows on the edge of the crate. "Looking forward to your segment tonight?"

Ashley grimaced. "Not really," Knowing Stephanie's personal feelings regarding Candice, she was pretty sure this was one thing that was safe to confide. "It's not just the fact that those two knocked me on my ass last week; it's that they want to apologize. Tonight. In the ring. On live television." Ashley pretended to think for a second. "Oh, and _apparently_ there's going to be a _surprise _involved. Oh, yeah, they're not planning anything." This last remark was uttered sarcastically.

Stephanie nodded sympathetically. "I wish I had some good news for you, but unfortunately, I don't know any more than you do. I tried to get Candice and Torrie to tell me exactly what they've got planned, but neither of them said a word, and eventually, Candice got that look on her face…you know, the one that makes you want to smack the shit out of her?" Ashley nodded, understanding all too well. "So I finally just told them to get the hell out, because if I had to look at Candice any longer, I really _was_ going to smack the shit out of her."

This time, Ashley laughed. "You should've just hauled off and hit her. Maybe it would knock some sense into her." The two women locked eyes, and simultaneously replied. "_Nah_!" They both burst into giggles, and for the first time, Ashley felt her intimidation start to fade. There would probably always be a professional boundary between her and Stephanie McMahon, but the former General Manager must have felt that she could trust the Diva Search winner if she was allowing this warm and humorous side of her to surface.

Stephanie finally calmed down, and just like that, was all business again. "Now that _that's_ out of the way—there is something I need to talk to you about." The Billion Dollar Princess hesitated, biting the corner of her lip. "I heard you were at the SmackDown taping last week."

Ashley felt an apology rise to her lips, but Steph waved it away before she even got the first word out. "You're not in trouble or anything. You didn't get in anyone's way, you didn't mess up anything—as far as I'm concerned, you were just there to observe the other wrestlers." She shot Ashley a pointed look, and the rookie Diva realized that this should be her official excuse should any other higher-ups in the company question her. The former General Manager hesitated again, and this time, she seemed uncertain of her words. "No, what I wanted to say was…if you ever go to SmackDown again…be careful."

This simple cautionary phrase, so different from the admonishment she was expecting, floored Ashley. She could only stare at the Billion Dollar Princess, speechless.

Stephanie continued, her uncertainty becoming even more apparent. "It's a different place there…since I was GM. I mean, even since _he_ came back—" The younger McMahon stopped, rubbed her temple briefly with one hand, and then went on. "Don't get me wrong; Theodore Long does a great job, but—" Again, Stephanie stopped, massaged her temple again, glancing up at the ceiling as though seeking divine inspiration. "Oh, God, how do I explain this?" She looked back at Ashley, and the Diva Search winner would always remember the glimmer of fear she saw in Stephanie's eyes. "Teddy Long is the GM, but it's _his_ yard—" The former General Manager never finished the sentence, because she suddenly pressed both hands to her temples and let out a sharp hiss of pain.

Ashley quickly slid off the crate, reaching over to grasp Stephanie's arm. "Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

Stephanie didn't take her hands from her face, but nodded. "Yeah, don't worry, it's just—" Another low cry of discomfort. "Just a migraine." She finished.

Ashley had never seen a migraine attack so swiftly or without warning, and something in her gut told her that there was more to this than a simple headache. But she ignored that notion; right now, all her attention was focused on the Billion Dollar Princess. "Are you sure? Let me get someone—"

"There you are!" One of the road agents materialized around the corner. He fixed Ashley with a stern gaze. "You better get your ass to gorilla; your segment's up next."

The rookie Diva shook her head. "I can't…Steph—" But the former GM was already waving her away.

"Go on," Stephanie managed to say. She had brought her hands down, and although her face was paler than normal, she didn't seem to be in any great pain. "Get to the ring, I'll be fine." She pulled her lips back in a smile. "I've been through worse."

Ashley stared back at her for a long moment, but finally turned to the road agent and followed him back around the corner.

As soon as she was out of sight, Stephanie's smile became a grimace of agony, and she bent over the equipment crate, pressing both hands to her face. The hallway was empty save for the former General Manager, so no one saw the terror in her expression. No one heard the words she spat out in a harsh growl.

"You fucking bastard. Five months…I thought you were dead…"

Then…

"She's just a kid, you know. She hasn't done anything to you. Leave her alone"

Then…

"Damn you, Mark. Damn you to hell…"

* * *


	10. Chapter 10: Go To Hell

Chapter 10: Go To Hell

Candice clutched the microphone with both hands, gazing at the Raw Diva Search winner with big innocent eyes. "Ashley…" she began, glancing over at Torrie, who stood just to her left. "Torrie and I…we are _really_ sorry for what happened last week. I mean, I wanted to apologize to you—_seriously_—" She pressed her hand to her ample chest. "—from the bottom of my heart."

Torrie nodded emphatically in assent. "Will you forgive us, _please_?" She stared at Ashley as well, her blue irises wide and unblinking.

Ashley looked from one Diva to the other, grateful that she no longer had to pretend to like either one of them. Ever since she had learned about this so-called "public apology", she expected it to be nothing less than a continuation of last week's beatdown. In fact, she wished that the two of them had come out and started trash-talking her from the beginning, rather than make her suffer through this insincere phony bullshit.

She stared at Candice and Torrie, clad in their matching silver outfits, and prayed for God to send down a lightning bolt to electrocute these two where they stood. Or better yet, the Undertaker. Wouldn't Candice just about piss herself if the lights went off, and the Deadman materialized right behind her?

At the thought of the Phenom, however, Ashley felt her blood run cold. Something about that scenario was just too similar to her own experience on SmackDown the past week. And the rookie Diva would have been lying if she tried to say that she wasn't still affected by it six days later.

_Be careful what you wish for…_a voice whispered in the back of her mind. It was an alien voice, quite unlike the one she was used to arguing with, and she wondered if it was more than just a figment of her imagination.

Instead, Ashley mentally shook off the recollection, and focused on the two other women in the ring. She raised the microphone to her lips. "After last week," she started. "I'm sure you guys can understand why I'm a little skeptical. But if you guys are serious…" She paused, giving them both a hard look. Torrie and Candice were huddled close together, gazing at her with identical worried expressions, almost as though they were scared of _her_. The idea would have been hilarious if she didn't already know what these two were capable of. "…then I guess I'll accept." she finished. Her tone of voice indicated that there would be a better chance of Hell freezing over.

Both Diva's faces relaxed into relieved smiles. Candice was the first one to speak. "Wow, that's great!" she exclaimed, her tone just a little too perky and bright to sound real. "I mean, we are being _completely _honest, and now that you're _officially_ a Raw Diva, Torrie and I figured out a way that we can make it up to you."

Ashley's stomach plummeted. Great, just great. These two bitches couldn't get enough enjoyment out of fucking with her unofficially; now they had gotten the okay to use the ring as another playground. The Raw Search Diva gritted her teeth, taking care not to let any of her apprehension show on her face.

"Right, right, right," Torrie chimed in, taking control of the conversation. She looked at Ashley, her expression nothing but bubbly and open. "Now, we know how much that you really want to be a wrestler, so…" She let the notion hang for a moment of two before continuing. "We pulled a few strings and we got permission from the General Manager for you to have your _very_…_first_…_match_!"

Candice nodded eagerly. "Tonight! Right here in Tampa!"

Ashley felt an odd combination of exhilaration and trepidation. Her first official WWE match…that was something she had been hoping for since she had been nothing more than a hopeful applicant auditioning in a bikini. But a match coming from the machinations of these two…it was more than enough reason to be wary.

Torrie's blonde head, in the meanwhile, was bobbing up and down like a dashboard ornament. "Right! And we _know_ that you're just starting out, you're learning all the moves, but we have _total confidence_ in you—" Was that a condescending note in her voice all of a sudden? "And you know what? You could probably even do that little monkey flip thing you do." Now there was no doubt; she was definitely patronizing the rookie Diva. Still, Ashley didn't move. After last week, she wanted as much space between her and the harpies as possible.

Candice, however, quickly changed that by taking a step toward the Raw Diva Search winner. "Yeah, totally. Or _maybe_…you could learn your place." In a flash, her friendly expression turned haughty, cruel. Her Midwestern accent grated on Ashley's ears like fingernails on a chalkboard, her tone filled with malice and just behind it, jealousy. The real Candice Michelle had finally emerged. The brunette Diva stopped just in front of Ashley. "Which is to look pretty and to _shut your mouth_." She practically spat the last three words into the rookie Diva's face.

Ashley couldn't help herself; she started laughing. This display of Candice's true colors was so unexpected and yet so familiar that it was…well…_laughable_. She held up her hand directly in front of the other Diva's face, as though saying _Whatever!_. "Okay," she finally managed to say. "Okay, I understand what's going on here." She looked at Candice and her own smile vanished. Taking a step forward, she shoved her face into that of the brunette Diva's, glancing from her to Torrie in quick succession. "Which one of you am I gonna face, huh?"

Candice's expression, which had become downright furious during Ashley's fit of laughter, now twisted into one of malicious delight. Throwing back her head, she laughed, peals of bright mocking laughter that chilled Ashley to the core. For the first time, the Raw Diva Search winner felt her confidence waver.

Candice backed up, still laughing. "Oh no, silly rabbit!" she exclaimed in between giggles. "You're not facing one of _us_!" She turned to Torrie for clarification.

The blond Diva smiled, her own just as bright and derisive as her counterpart's. "You're facing…" She pointed toward the Titantron, and both Divas chimed in on the last word: "_Her!"_

For a moment, Ashley wondered who they meant, then froze when the first notes of her opponent's entrance music hit.

_I ain't the l ady to mess with…_

The rookie Diva almost grimaced. Crap. She should have known that these two would eventually bring in Victoria to do their dirty work. She turned, just in time to see Raw's Vicious Vixen stride out to the top of the Titantron ramp. Without even stopping, she headed toward the ring, her eyes locked on Ashley, her face full of contempt. _Just another chew toy…_ her expression said. _Just another scratching post that I can sharpen my claws on before I focus on the Divas that matter._

Ashley met the veteran Diva's eyes without flinching. There was a good chance that once Victoria hit this ring, she was going to get her ass kicked, but there was no way in hell that she was going down without a fight.

Without warning, someone shoved her hard from behind, almost knocking her to her knees. The Raw Diva Search winner whirled around, just in time to catch the guilty culprit—Torrie—stepping back. Ashley stormed toward the blond Diva, shooting out both hands and shoving her back as hard as she could. She was more successful than Torrie; her push knocked the other woman down onto her back. Ashley felt a rush of satisfaction, the feeling a flood of warmth that raced through her body.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Candice moving toward her, and turned. She shoved Candice perhaps a little harder, her hand catching the brunette Diva in the throat. Candice fell ungracefully on her ass, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to pull air back into her lungs. Ashley didn't care; she would have blinded the bitch if she could.

Right now, however, she didn't have time to make these two she-devils pay for their actions; she had a very powerful opponent to worry about. Turning back toward Victoria, she saw that the raven-haired Diva had almost reached the ring. Running across the ring, she grabbed the ropes and launched her lower body through them, catching Victoria right in the jaw with a drop kick.

Ashley maneuvered through the ropes and dropped to the floor, taking one second to adjust her top. She then flew at the other Diva, nailing the Vicious Vixen with one, two, three forearms to the face. All around her, the fans were cheering, urging her on.

Instead of returning her punches, however, the veteran Diva grabbed her around the legs, lifting her in the air. Ashley felt a brief moment of helplessness, one that was quickly replaced with pain when her spine connected with the ring apron. The Raw Diva Search winner felt as though someone had just tried to fold her in half. She collapsed to the floor, pain shooting up and down her back.

Victoria, unfortunately, was far from finished. Grabbing the rookie Diva by her skirt and by a handful of her long hair, she hurled her ungracefully into the ring like a bag of garbage. Ashley rolled once or twice before she stopped, then pulled herself slowly to her hands and knees, trying to ignore the agony and just _survive_.

She didn't get very far, though, before a stiff kick to the abdomen sent her tumbling back down to the mat. With some effort, Ashley rolled over onto her back, staring up at the lighting configuration hanging from the ceiling. She had a vague awareness of sounds around her: the bell ringing, the fans cheering and booing, those two skanks shrieking encouragement at Victoria. Then the raven-haired Diva appeared above her, momentarily blotting out the light. Her expression was filled with smug triumph, but also, a sort of disappointment, as though she regretted the match ending so quickly. Bending down, she grabbed a handful of Ashley's hair.

Before she could pull her up, however, Ashley brought up her leg, her boot connecting with Victoria's face. The Vicious Vixen stumbled toward the corner, holding onto her jaw. Gingerly, Ashley got to her knees, then to her feet. For the first time in this match, she actually had a fighting chance and she was going to hit Victoria with everything she had.

She charged toward Victoria, but quickly than she could imagine, the veteran Diva kicked her in the abdomen. Ashley staggered and dropped to her knees, once again feeling that unpleasant sensation of having to vomit. Her head swam with dizziness. Victoria pulled herself out of the corner, moving toward the rookie Diva with all the coiled intensity of a jungle cat. Reaching down, she grabbed two handfuls of Ashley's golden hair and jammed the Raw Diva Search winner's head between her thighs. Locking both arms around her waist, she hoisted Ashley up over her shoulders, setting her up for the Widow's Peak.

Ashley barely registered any of this, but when Victoria dropped to the mat, she felt the impact from her knees all the way up to her jaw. She fell, senseless, to the canvas, not stirring even when Victoria hooked her leg for the pin. 1…2…_3_. The bell rang, marking Ashley as the loser in her first official match as a WWE Diva.

But Ashley didn't care; right now, she just wanted the pain to go away. She lay there, pretending to be unconscious while the evil duo celebrated with Victoria above her. She didn't move, even when a stiletto heel dug into her side. She just ground her teeth together and waited for them to leave so she could roll out of the ring and stagger to the back.

_I'll get you…_she thought bitterly to herself_. No matter how long it takes, I'm gonna get you back, and until I do, all three of you can go to hell_…

* * *

Ashley walked slowly down the hall, pressing one hand to the wall to steady herself. The dizziness had gone away, but her legs were still wobbly, and it felt like someone had shoved a red hot poker down the length of her spinal column.

She turned the corner, and spotted Matt Hardy about halfway down the hall. Even in the midst of excrutiating pain, Ashley still felt her face ease into a smile. She had gotten the chance to hang out with Matt during the past several days. It was usually backstage before the show, and it was always about something safe, like music or movies. But every conversation they had had was tinged with the memory of that first encounter in the trainer's room, the single moment of absolute kinship. And as the days passed, Ashley found herself being drawn to him more and more, because she felt that when she was with Matt, she was with someone who understood her perfectly. The fact that it was unexpected made it that much more appealing.

Sometimes, after Matt would excuse himself and leave, a little voice in the back of her mind would timidly ask: _But what about Randy?_ Whenever that happened, Ashley would jam her earphones into her ears and turn up the volume almost loud enough to hurt. What about him? She couldn't ignore the fact that she was still attracted, physically and emotionally, to the Legend Killer. But Randy had had his chance, and he had made it more or less clear that he did not reciprocate her feelings. Whereas Matt was here, Matt was safe—and regardless of whether or not he was attracted to her, he was still far more accessible than Randy Orton.

The rookie Diva was about to wave and call out to Matt, when she noticed that he wasn't alone. Even at this distance, Lita's brilliant red hair was unmistakable. Ashley quickly ducked back behind the corner, peeking out around the edge. Neither Lita nor Matt seemed to have noticed her. The red-haired Diva was eying her ex with a look of cat-like smugness, while Matt's face was expressionless.

Lita was speaking: "…Look, I just thought I should warn you before your match, 'cause I spent a _really long time_ warming Edge up." She paused, letting this mental image sink in before she continued. "I just thought you should know."

Matt didn't reply; just stared back at her with the same emotionless countenance. Lita's self-satisfied smile gradually faded, and she sighed. "All right," she finally said. "Let me ask you a question." As she spoke, she slowly pulled down the zipper of her long-sleeved warmup jacket and shrugged it off, exposing a top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. "How does it feel to know that you will never, _ever_ experience…_this_…again?" She laughed, a low throaty sound that was almost a purr. "It probably feels pretty pathetic. You know what, Matt?" She stepped forward, practically shoving her ample cleavage right in Matt's face. "_You're _pathetic. And as far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell." At this, Matt looked down at the ground, as though he was making an intense study of his feet. Lita smirked, sure that she had gotten the last word.

Ashley, who had been cheated on in the past, found herself suddenly hating the red-haired Diva. She was on the verge of stepping back into the hallway and giving Lita a piece of her mind when Matt Hardy looked up. What she saw in his expression made her freeze and drained the smirk from Lita's face.

There was nothing in it…and yet there was everything. Every emotion he had gone through since learning of the betrayal, every scheme he had mulled over while plotting his revenge. But more importantly…there was the sense that whatever he was going to do to Edge in this upcoming match, he was going to enjoy it. A lot.

Matt smiled, and Ashley felt the chill of it all the way at the other end of the hall. Lita, she could see, no longer looked sure of herself. In fact, she looked downright scared. Maybe she was getting her first glimpse of the monster she had had a hand in creating. Matt leaned toward Lita, who nervously moved back a step. When he spoke, his voice was low, but Ashley still heard every word. "Go to hell? Oh, I'm _going _to hell…but I'm not going alone." His tone dropped to a whisper. _"I'm taking Edge with me_."

With that, he walked away without so much as a backward glance at his ex. Ashley moved away from the corner, but Matt never even looked her way as he passed by. Either he didn't know that she had been listening or he just didn't care.

As he disappeared from her sight, Ashley became aware of two things. One, the darkness she had glimpsed in Matt Hardy scared her almost as much as the Undertaker.

The second was that she had never been more attracted to him.

* * *

Ashley sat on a bench in the empty woman's locker room, now changed into her street clothes. Her black-streaked hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Staring down at her lap, she turned her cell phone over and over in her hands. Still no messages. Still no explanation. If she had any common sense, she would throw that "R.K.O." t-shirt in the trash and get on with her life, instead of sitting here, waiting for messages that would never--

Maria burst into the room in a blur of pink and sparkles. Her green eyes lit up when she spotted the Diva Search winner. "Oh my God, I saw your match!" she blurted out. "Are you all right?"

"What do you think?" Ashley snapped back, then instantly regretted it. She and Maria might be polar opposites personality-wise, but in all other respects, they were in the same boat. During her few conversations with the backstage reporter this past weekend, she had learned that Maria got about as much respect as she did, and had been left high and dry when her best friend, Christy Hemme, had been traded to SmackDown. Her only defense was to play dumb, to act like an idiot and thus stay below everyone's radar. Ashley could not imagine doing that for a day, let alone for a year.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I'm just so tired of those…those…"

"Bitches?" Maria added helpfully, and just hearing that word come out of the backstage reporter's mouth made Ashley crack up with laughter. Maria stared at her for a second or two, puzzled, then joined in.

Their shared amusement was suddenly drowned out by a loud commotion coming from the hall; the sound of several voices clamoring at once, and the clatter of wheels over cement.

Ashley frowned. "What the hell—" She got up, walked to the door, opened it up and shut her head out. She quickly yanked it back in just in time as a hoard of paramedics wheeling a stretcher rushed passed. She caught a glimpse of the prone figure on the stretcher, and gasped when she realized that it was Matt Hardy. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"What? What is it?" Maria asked, but Ashley was already out in the hall, following the paramedics as fast as she could. She heard the click of high heels behind her and realized that Maria must be running after her.

Ashley turned her head, hoping that she wouldn't run into anything or anyone in the process. "Watch my stuff!" she yelled at the backstage reporter. "I'll be back for it."

"What?" Maria yelled back, either not hearing or not comprehending. She seemed to be having enough difficulty trying to sprint in stilettos.

"Just watch my stuff!" Ashley shouted again. "Thanks!" Without waiting to say whether Maria had gotten it this time, she turned her attention back toward the paramedics. They all reached the parking lot by now, where two ambulances were parked, their blue and red lights flashing. The group of paramedics surrounding Matt were just now loading him into the back. Over at the other ambulance, a similar group was preparing to do the same thing with a stretcher containing a bloodied Edge. Just behind them, Lita hovered, her pretty face full of fear and concern.

Ashley pushed her way to the ambulance and was about to climb into the back when a burly middle-aged paramedic moved into her path. "Wait just a minute," he demanded, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. "Who are you?"

The rookie Diva was momentarily lost for words. "I'm, uh…" She glanced over, and noticed that Lita was staring at her with an expression that was part interested, part wary. Ashley suddenly found her voice. "I'm his girlfriend." she announced, her voice just a little bit louder than necessary. Over by the other ambulance, Lita's brown eyes narrowed to small slits and the interest in her face became hostility.

Ashley's answer apparently was sufficient for the paramedic, however, because he grunted in reply and motioned her up. The Diva Search winner climbed into the back, wedging herself between two other members of the medical team. As she did, her hand began to vibrate, and she realized for the first time that she was still clutching her cell phone. Lifting it up, she read the words on the flashing blue screen:

_Randy Orton_

The phone buzzed again, and again, but Ashley was too shocked to answer it. She stared at the tiny piece of electronic equipment, the one link between her and the guy she just couldn't forgive…or forget.

The ambulance lurched forward, forcing her back to the present. Her eyes jumped from the screen to the unconscious figure of Matt Hardy, and in that moment, Ashley made her decision. With one finger, she pressed the power switch, shutting off the phone.

"Go to hell, Randy," she muttered to herself, shoving the now-useless phone in her pocket. Reaching down, she gently took Matt's hand, holding it in both of her own. "Go to hell…"


	11. Chapter 11: A New Ally

**A/N: Some of you may be wondering "Where's Randy? You said this was a Randy pairing!" Well, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about him (or the 'Taker); I just really wanted to develop this relationship between Matt and Ashley. I had some writer's-block issues with the end of this chapter, so be kind. Otherwise, read, review and enjoy! Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 11: A New Ally

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, wincing as she did so. Her back was still suffering from the effects of the Widow's Peak, and the uncomfortable seats in the hospital waiting room weren't helping matters much. The rookie Diva reached back and pulled the elastic tie from her hair, letting it spill down over her shoulders. She ran her fingers through her blond tresses, pushing them back from her face.

For not the first time, she wondered what she was doing here. Just like last week, she had dropped everything and run off because of a guy. And not even the _same_ guy. The thought elicited a bitter chuckle from her. _Impulsive Ashley strikes again…_she mused. She had spent the better part of her adult life living by her instincts, but since coming to the WWE, all her instincts had done so far was left her confused and bruised, both emotionally and physically. She didn't belong here; Matt should have his girlfriend at his side, not some girl he had met last week.

_Have you forgotten?..._her inner voice reminded her. _The reason Matt's here is because of his so-called "girlfriend". He doesn't have anyone anymore…just like you_.

Ashley let her eyes drift half-closed. Maybe she was here because, just like Matt, she was alone. Maybe what they each really needed was a friend—and maybe, in that way, they needed each other.

A soft cough interrupted her thoughts, and the Diva Search winner opened her eyes. Matt Hardy stared down at her, his mouth curled in a wry half-smile. "Didn't mean to interrupt your train of thought," he remarked, his tone carrying both amusement and affection.

Ashley quickly glanced back down at her lap, her face flushing. "You weren't interrupting anything; I was just daydreaming." she replied, her words pouring out of her mouth faster than she would have liked. She was dangerously close to babbling. The rookie Diva looked back up at Matt and smiled, hoping that her color had returned to normal. Her eyes took in the bandage on his forehead, the way he seemed to be resting all of his weight on one foot. "Please, sit."

Matt made a face. "That's what everyone's been telling me for the last hour and a half. To be honest, I'm getting a little tired of sitting." Nevertheless, he eased himself gingerly into the chair next to hers. Ashley was acutely aware of their close proximity and had to look down at her lap again. She hoped that this lull between them wouldn't turn into an awkward silence, and a second or two later, Matt fulfilled her wish by speaking.

"You know, I can't help but wonder why we always seem to meet up after I've had the hell beat out of me." He looked at the Diva Search winner, his half-smile widening into a grin. "You're not a jinx, are you?"

The warmth in his voice kept the comment from sounding offensive. Ashley couldn't help but look up and smile in return. "You know us Diva Search girls," she joked, sitting up and leaning forward a little. "We're worse than breaking a mirror—" She stopped abruptly as a fresh bolt of pain shot down her back, this one even sharper than the others. The rookie Diva grimaced, sucking air in through clenched teeth.

Matt's countenance instantly morphed into one of concern. "Are you okay?"

The pain gradually rippled outward, lessening into faint twinges, and Ashley nodded. "I'm fine," she assured him, forcing herself to sit up straighter. She glanced over at the Raw Superstar, raising her eyebrow. "Let me get this straight, though…you jump off the _stage_ and you ask _me_ if _I'm _all right?"

Matt chuckled. With one hand, he gestured at the bandage on his forehead. "What, you mean this? _This_ is nothing. It takes a lot more than _this_ to kill a Hardy."

Something in his voice when he said "kill" brought back memories of the conversation Ashley had overheard in the hallway, of the absolute lack of emotion in Matt's face as he stared at Lita. She shivered, a brief tremor that swept over her entire body, and her smile faded. Just like there was this lighthearted warm side of him, there was also a dark side to Matt Hardy, one that simultaneously drew her in and scared the hell out of her.

Matt must have realized that something he said had just killed the mood, because his expression sobered as well. The two of them sat quietly side by side for a few moments, before the Raw Superstar broke the silence again. "Thanks…for being here."

"It's nothing," Ashley answered, almost automatically. She gazed down at her hands, twisted them together in her lap.

"No, it's _something_!" The passion in Matt's voice caused her to look up in surprise, her eyes wide. Hardy gestured with one hand as he talked. "Everyone else on the roster…they look at me like I'm a loser, or worse, like they pity me. I could give a damn about their opinions and I don't want their fucking pity." He looked at her. "But you…when you look at me…it's different. It's like, somehow, you understand."

Ashley felt her breath leave her in one low shuddering gasp. In a few words, Matt had just vocalized what she had felt the first time she saw him. She wanted to say something, but found that she couldn't. Instead, the rookie Diva was vaguely aware that she was drifting closer to Matt, and that he was responding in kind. Ashley closed her eyes, feeling Matt's fingers graze her cheek, his light touch burning against her skin. Their faces drew close together—

"Ashley!" The sudden utterance of her name yanked the Diva Search winner back to the present. She pulled away from Matt, snapping back into her seat and turning toward the source of the voice.

Maria stood just inside the entrance, hands on her hips, head cocked to the side inquisitively. Her face was filled with that bubbly incomprehension so characteristic of her. "I came to pick you up," Her green eyes slid over to Matt. "Oh my God, you look awful!" she exclaimed. "Do you want a ride?"

Matt blinked, as though he was still trying to process the sudden interruption. "No, I'm good," he finally replied. "Helms is coming to pick me up; thanks for offering, though."

Maria bobbed her head in a nod, then turned back to Ashley. "Ash, you ready?" she chirped.

"In a sec." Ashley answered. She turned back to Matt, lowering her voice. "Sorry about that; I kind of ran out on her."

"Don't worry about it." Matt responded. He glanced down at his lap for a second, biting his lip. When he looked up again, his expression was uncertain. "Listen…I don't even know if I should even be asking you this, but…do you want to go sometime next week?"

"I'd love to," Ashley was shocked not only by her response, but by how rapidly the words flowed out of her mouth.

Matt's expression lit up, his smile the complete antithesis of the one he had given Lita earlier. "Great!" He started to say something else, stopped, then simply added: "That's great."

Ashley slowly rose to her feet, partly because of her back, but partly because of reluctance. "I better…go…" she stammered, gesturing toward the door.

"Yeah," Matt seemed as tongue-tied as she was. Ashley walked about three or four feet before he blurted out: "See you around!"

Ashley turned around, aware that she was blushing again, but unable to control. "See ya!" she called out in response. Matt gave her a little wave and smiled. The Diva Search winner ducked her head, smiling in return. She turned back toward Maria, who raised her eyebrows questioningly, but didn't say anything.

The automatic doors _whooshed_ open as the two Diva walked out into the warm late August night. Ashley was still too busy recalling her conversation with Matt Hardy, so it took her a minute or two to realize that Maria was staring at her with a smile on her face.

The rookie Diva finally stopped and eyed Raw's backstage reporter with a look of almost-exasperation. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," Maria remarked innocently. The two women started walking again, and were almost to the car when she added in a soft sing-song voice: "_Someone's _got a _cruuuush…._"

Ashley rolled her eyes, but was unable to keep the grin off her face.

* * *

In the car, Ashley was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to take much notice of the outside world, but she straightened up with a start when she saw the bright neon Holiday Inn sign rush past in a blur of color and light.

"Hey, turn around," she spoke up, turning toward Maria. "I think we just passed my hotel."

Maria, however, did not even slow down the vehicle. "Doesn't matter," she replied cheerfully. "Tonight, you're rooming with me."

Now it was Ashley's turn to silently raise her eyebrows. Maria glanced over, caught the look on the Diva Search winner's face, and shook her head, smiling. "Relax, it's nothing sinister. I figured you could use someone to talk to, and besides…" She paused. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Ashley waited for further clarification, but when she received none, she shrugged and turned back toward the passenger side window. If Raw's backstage reporter wanted to be all secretive, that was fine. If Ashley had learned one thing since coming to the WWE, it was to expect the unexpected.

Arriving at the hotel (a Days Inn), the two Divas wheeled their suitcases up to the third floor. Maria used her key card to open the door, then stepped back, motioning Ashley ahead of her. For just a moment, the rookie Diva hesitated, entertaining the wild idea that this was yet another sneak attack. But she quickly dismissed the notion. This was Maria, not Candice Michelle, and besides, she could see from the hallway that a light was on inside.

The Diva Search winner stepped over the threshold into the room—and then stopped dead when she saw the figure sitting on one of the twin beds.

Trish Stratus leaned back against the headboard, her legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other. With one hand, she idly turned the pages of a fitness magazine. The Women's Champion glanced up at Ashley, and a small smile touched the corners of her mouth. Tossing the magazine aside, she swung her legs off the bed and walked over to the rookie Diva, her hand outstretched. "Hey, how's it going?"

Ashley, however, was too dumbstruck to respond. She could feel her lips moving, but no sound came out. It was only when Trish reached out and grasped Ashley's limp hand that she finally found her voice. "Oh my God…you're…you're—"

"Trish Stratus," the Women's Champion interjected. "Trish to my friends," She glanced past Ashley's shoulder, nodding at Maria, who had just entered the room and closed the door. Trish swung her gaze back to the rookie Diva. "And you're Ashley Massaro, Raw Diva Search winner of 2005." There was a touch of sarcasm in her tone, but Ashley didn't mind; she was starting to feel the same way about her newly won title.

The Women's Champion nodded over her shoulder. "Come. Sit." She sat back down on the bed, and motioned for Ashley to sit on the adjacent one. Behind them, Maria dragged over one of the room chair, positioning it between the two beds and taking a seat as well.

Trish locked her eyes on the Diva Search winner. "So…you're probably wondering why you're here." Ashley didn't answer, only nodded. Trish went on. "I've been watching you the past two weeks, how you've handled yourself in the ring…and I think you have potential." She looked from Ashley to Maria, then back again. "And I think all of us would agree that you need some help."

"But why me?" The rookie Diva blurted out. She stared hard at the Women's Champion. "No offense, but you weren't exactly welcoming to Christy Hemme. What is it about me that makes you want to help?"

Trish looked down at her lap for a few seconds, the tiny smile playing at her lips again. She glanced back up at the Diva Search winner. "Because things have changed." She rose to her feet, pacing a little. "Back when Christy first came to the WWE…you're right, I gave her a hard time. But back then, there were also a lot of Divas who could actually wrestle, who weren't afraid of getting in the ring. Now…" She sighed, and sank back down onto the bed. "Now it's just me, Victoria, and Lita. Vicky's joined the dark side, and Lita…well, I don't know what the hell she does anymore." Ashley caught a hint of melancholy in her tone, but didn't comment.

Trish continued. "If this was a year ago, I would just laugh and call you a piece of eye candy, but this is the present, and right now, the eye candy outnumbers the wrestlers. If the Women's Championship is going to mean anything, someone's going to have to start teaching the eye candy how to get it done in the ring."

"So...what?" Ashley asked. She could feel anger creeping into her voice, but couldn't help herself. "This is all about you? You're helping me out just so you can have competition?" She stood up abruptly. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take my chances with the Wicked Witches." She turned to leave.

"Sit down." Trish's tone was neutral, but there was an unmistakable note of command in it. Ashley was so surprised that she obeyed. The Women's Champion stared at her, her head tilted to one side. Her expression had sobered. "I know what it's like to have no one believe in you, all right?"

For the second time that evening, Ashley felt her jaw drop. Trish Stratus was the last person she would have expected to sympathize with her.

The Women's Champion was still talking. "I was a _manager_, for God's sakes. My specialty was B and P matches; I was never supposed to _really_ wrestle, let alone become the Women's Champion." Her gaze softened. "And when I saw you out there in the ring, I couldn't help but remember what it felt like being the underdog. In some ways...you kind of remind me of myself." Her smile reappeared. "Minus the lip piercing." Ashley couldn't help it; she grinned as well. The Women's Champion leaned forward, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And besides...where do Candice and Torrie get off thinking they're the top Divas on Raw?"

"Amen!" Maria chimed in, but Trish's attention was still focused on Ashley. The Women's Champion extended her hand toward the rookie Diva.

"What do you say, Ash?"

Ashley glanced down at her hand for a second, then back up at Trish's face. Her grin grew wider. Reaching out, she clasped Trish's hand in her own. "All I want to know is...when do I get to kick Candice's ass?"

Trish laughed, and for the first time, Ashley felt like she could relate to her. "That's the spirit!" she exclaimed. Maria slid out of her chair, coming over next to Trish. The Women's Champion slung her other arm around the backstage reporter's shoulders. Trish leaned toward Ashley again, letting go of her hand. "Ready to make those bitches pay?"

"Damn straight!" Ashley replied enthusiastically, slapping Trish's upraised hand in a high-five. The three Divas burst into laughter.


	12. Chapter 12: One Missed Call

**A/N: The idea for this chapter came to me while I was outlining it, and I just decided to run with it. Chapter 13 is done, and Chapter 14 is about half done, so I should be posting them soon. In the meantime, keep on reading, reviewing and enjoying! Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 12: One Missed Call

Ashley stormed down the hall, cell phone clenched tightly in her hand. The pain she had experienced from Torrie's facebuster had worn off, and now, all she felt was rage. Pure unadulterated rage.

Another week had gone by, bringing with it another edition of Monday Night Raw, this one emanating from Nashville, Tennessee. And just like the two weeks prior, Ashley had found herself on her back in the middle of the ring while those three she-devils stood over her, laughing and smirking.

Her match against Torrie had at least lasted longer than her one against Victoria, but even her training with Trish had not been sufficient against the Boise beauty's experience. Besides, Ashley had also had to contend with Candice and Victoria on the outside. It had been like a Lumberjack match, only none of the 'jacks were on her side.

Her defeat had come when Candice climbed up on the ring apron, distracting the referee, allowing Victoria to pick up Ashley and drop her jaw-first on the ring edge. After that, Torrie had had little trouble slamming her face into the mat and scoring the pin, smiling and giggling the whole time as if she had just won the Miss American pageant.

The Diva Search winner reached the small room where the catering table had been set up. Various food and drink items were arranged on its surface. Ashley stopped in front of it, slapping down her cell phone and pressing both palms on the table top. She leaned over, struggling to catch her breath, trying to regain control before she did something really stupid. But then she remembered the incident with Torrie's dog, Chloe; how Candice had handed the small white animal to her blond friend, yelling at her to—

Something, some crucial fiber of self-control snapped inside the rookie Diva. Her hand reached over, closed around a can of soda. She whirled around, pulling her arm back and hurling the aluminum can with all of her might, imagining that she was aiming right for Candice's haughty face. It wasn't until the soda can had left her hand that she realized she was no longer alone.

With a speed that seemed inhuman, Trish stepped to the side, the can whizzing past her harmlessly. She narrowly escaped; if the Women's Champion had been any slower, she probably would have ended up with a broken nose.

Ashley clapped both hands over her mouth, the anger in her temporarily blotted out by shock. "Oh my God!" She quickly moved forward. "I swear, I didn't know you were there…" Her voice trailed off.

The corner of Trish's mouth twitched in amusement. "That's pretty obvious." She glanced back at where the soda can lay on the floor, now dented and leaking dark brown carbonated liquid. "Be careful next time; you've got a hell of an arm." She looked back at the rookie Diva. "Let me guess…you grew up with only brothers."

Ashley couldn't respond; she was still too shaken by nearly hitting Trish. Her throat had locked up, and the very act of vocalizing seemed impossible. "I'm sorry…" she managed to say, her voice sounding weak and strangled.

The Women's Champion closed the space between them, grabbing Ashley's arm almost hard enough to hurt. The sudden pressure of Trish's fingers digging into her skin was enough to force the Diva Search winner back to reality. The Canadian beauty stared hard at Ashley. "Stop apologizing, okay? I'm fine, you're fine—let's just move on." She paused for a moment. "Let's talk about your match."

At the memory of that humiliating experience, Ashley felt the fury in her surge upward again. She jerked her arm free of Trish's grip, turning away abruptly. "I don't want to talk about it," she answered, her voice terse.

"Yeah, well, how are you going to improve if we _don't_ talk about it?" Trish retorted. "You didn't exactly have a five-star match out there tonight."

The rookie Diva froze in mid-step, then spun around, striding toward the Women's Champion. "For your _information_," she spat. "Everything I did out there was what you taught me to do, so don't stand there and criticize me." Her voice began to rise in volume. "I wasn't facing one Diva out there, I was facing _three_—and I didn't exactly see you running out to help."

"Would you just calm down?" Trish hissed.

"Oh, that's real easy for you to say," the Diva Search winner shot back sarcastically. She was practically screaming by now. "You didn't get a dog's ass shoved in your face!"

Just as swiftly as she had sidestepped, Trish grabbed Ashley's shoulders and shook her. Literally _shook_ her. "Keep your goddamn voice down," she replied in a low voice. "The other Divas know that I'm here, that I'm making my ring return soon. What they _don't _know is that I'm helping you, and that's not going to stay a secret for long if they come in here and find you screaming at me. So, please, _shut up_."

Ashley snapped her mouth closed, but continued to glower at the Women's Champion. Trish continued. "Now, what I was _going_ to say before you went off on me was: you didn't exactly have a five-star match—but in terms of it being your second match…it wasn't bad." Ashley remained quiet, but some of the hostility left her face at this unexpected compliment.

The Women's Champion went on. "And you're right—it was pretty much a handicap match out there tonight. I don't know _what_ the hell the ref was looking at. But—and you're probably going to hate me for saying this—it was probably the best thing that could have happened." She saw the angry color rise in Ashley's cheeks again and kept talking. "Hear me out. Right now, they _need_ to think that you're all alone here, that no one's going to come help you. Because all this humiliation at your expense—it's going to make payback so much sweeter." She looked hard at Ashley. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

After several long seconds of silence, the rookie Diva finally nodded. What Trish was saying; it made sense—but she still couldn't dispel her original assumption that the Women's Champion was doing this more for her own benefit than for Ashley's. But help was help, and right now, she could not afford to turn that down, no matter what Trish's motivations might be.

Trish must have seen the look on her face, because her face softened in a smile. "Relax…you'll get your chance to make Candice pay."

"Yeah, but when?" Ashley couldn't stop herself from saying.

Trish's smile became enigmatic. "Soon."

"How very Zen of you," Ashley remarked, more than a little sarcastically. She turned away from the Women's Champion and slowly walked back to the table where her cell phone lay.

Trish followed her. "On a lighter note…how are things with Matt?"

The Diva Search winner couldn't prevent a smile from spreading across her face. "Matt? Matt's great."

Matt _was_ great. The more Ashley got to know him, the more clearly she saw a sweet funny guy whose tastes mirrored her own. Their first "date" had been dinner after the house show on Friday, and since then, they made it a habit of eating together or playing tourist and checking out the local sights. Ashley really didn't know how to classify their relationship. It was still too new to be serious, but at the same time, there was an emotional bond between them that somehow made them more than "just friends".

There was a melancholy in Matt, however; one which Ashley occasionally got glimpses of. More than once, they had been walking the streets together, and Matt would point something out, and for an instant, his eyes would glaze over and a look of intense sadness would come over his face. Though she never said anything, Ashley knew that he was thinking about Lita, about the happiness they had shared before Edge had come into the picture.

The rookie Diva didn't know exactly how Matt felt about his ex, and she never asked. She was pretty sure that part of him still loved her. At the same time, she couldn't help but remember the expression on his face in the hallway, and knew that another part of him would have been just as happy to throw Lita off that stage. Would have loved it, in fact. And that scared the crap of Ashley, knowing that the emotion inside of Matt Hardy was capable of such conflicting acts.

Trish's voice interrupted her thoughts. "A word of advice," The rookie Diva turns to her expectantly. The Women's Champion looked pensive. "Just watch yourself around him, okay? He didn't deserve what happened to him, and he shouldn't have to get his heart broken again."

Ashley didn't reply, only nodded. She didn't dare tell Trish about her own doubts. About how, sometimes, she looked over at Matt and wished he was someone else. Someone with the most incredible blue eyes—

Almost on cue, her phone rang, the vibration making it skitter across the table. Ashley put one hand on it to keep it from falling to the floor, then looked down to get a better view of the number. Her eyes widened when she saw the name emblazoned on the glowing blue screen.

Trish, too, peered down at the phone in curiosity. "Who's calling?"

Ashley rapidly moved her hand over the screen to cover it. "No one," she answered, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her. "Just a wrong number." Beneath her hand, the phone continued to vibrate, feeling more like a living thing than an electronic device.

Now Trish was looking at her. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

"No," Ashley replied, a little too quickly. "No, I'll just let it ring. They'll figure it out once my voice mail comes up." As she said these words, the vibration ceased. The two Divas stood there in silence until Ashley's phone emitted a tiny beep, indicating that she had a voice message. Ashley closed her fingers around the phone, squeezing it tight. She couldn't bring herself to look at Trish.

"I'm gonna go…change…" she finally said, her voice sounding unconvincing even to her ears. "I'll talk to you later tonight." The cell phone still clutched in one hand, she turned around and walked away, the blood pounding in her ears.

Trish watched her leave, not without sympathy. "Be careful, Ash," she murmured quietly. "Especially now…be careful."

* * *

Thankfully, the Women's locker room was deserted when Ashley arrived. She stepped inside, then pressed her back against the door as it eased closed. Part of her wanted to turn the lock to shut out the rest of the world even more, but she knew that to do so would be going overboard. Instead, the rookie Diva walked slowly toward one of the benches, one foot in front of the other, her legs wobbly beneath her. She eased herself down, and finally brought the phone up in front of her face, her eyes scanning the words on the screen.

_1 New Voice Message_

Ashley flipped open the phone, her thumb hovering over the buttons. One would play the message…while one would delete it.

Ever since last Monday, Randy Orton had been calling daily, leaving messages every time. At first, Ashley had deleted them, still pissed over the silent treatment he had given her the week before. But as time went on, and the Legend Killer's calls persisted, she found it harder and harder to erase them. The Diva Search winner tried to tell herself that Randy had had his shot, and that he was only calling because he couldn't accept rejection from any Diva. More and more often, though, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe Randy kept calling because deep down…he was attracted to her.

That was ridiculous, of course. She and Randy had conversed exactly three times since she had come to the WWE. She never saw him, she could barely claim that she _knew_ him. What could a former World Champion see in a rookie Diva?

And yet…and yet…why did he keep calling her?

Ashley stared down at the screen a few seconds more, then pushed the button on the left, the one that would take her directly to her voice mailbox to play the message. She was going to hate herself for doing so, but after a week, she had to know what was compelling Randy to contact her. The Diva Search winner tentatively raised the phone to her ear.

"You have one new voice message."

Then:

"Hey, Ashley, it's me, Randy. I don't know why you're not answering your phone. I just really wanted to—" All of a sudden, the deep baritone of the Legend Killer became distorted, the syllables of each word stretching out, elongating into unintelligible sounds. Ashley frowned. _What the hell? Is this some kind of a joke?_ The phone screeched suddenly, the sound stabbing into her eardrum like a knife.

The rookie Diva dropped the phone with a stifled cry, holding her ear in pain. The phone hit the floor and slid, but did not break. It spun a few times, coming to rest with the screen facing her. The garbled sounds continued, seeming to almost form words.

_Stay…away…_

Then, suddenly, the jumbled mess of noise was replaced by a single sound, cold, chilling and recognizable: the hollow clang of a church bell.

The screen went black.

Ashley wanted to scream, but her throat felt as though it had been stuffed full of sand. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. As she stood there, frozen in horror, the temperature in the room dropped, making each shaky exhale of breath a puff of white vapor. The Diva Search winner's teeth began to chatter and she clasped her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

Icy fingers brushed her skin, moving up the line of her vertebrae. The touch was as gentle as a lover's caress, but _cold_, a cold that seemed to come from within, as though the owner of that touch had ice water for blood. Ashley kept telling herself that she was dreaming, that she had been _alone_ when she walked in the room—but the frigid caress banished all rational thought. The fingers paused at the top of her back, pushing aside her long blond hair to encircle the base of her neck—

Ashley's paralysis shattered. She whirled around, flinging up one hand to defend herself. "_Get the fuck away from me!_" she screamed, her eyes wide with fear.

The room was empty.

Ashley's gaze shot to every corner, trying to find some trace of the mysterious person, trying not to accept the fact that the impossible had just occurred—

The door opened and the rookie Diva shrieked again, clapping one hand over her mouth.

Maria stared at her in bewilderment and concern. "Are you all right?" she asked. "I heard you screaming out in the hall."

Ashley didn't know how she pulled it together in that moment, how she somehow took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. "It was nothing, just…" Her mind raced, searching for a logical explanation. "A spider was crawling on me; I was trying to get it off."

Maria's pretty face immediately twisted in revulsion. "Ugh! I _hate_ spiders! Ew, ew, ew!" She gave a quick shake, as though the imaginary spider had somehow landed on her. "Did you know that we all swallow, like, seven spiders while we're asleep?"

Normally, Ashley would have been disgusted at this particular piece of trivia, but at the moment, she was still trying to get her heartbeat under control before it exploded out of her chest. "That's gross," she remarked absently.

Maria, meanwhile, was peering nervously at the floor. "It's not still here, is it?"

"What?" For a moment, Ashley had no idea what the backstage reporter was talking about. Then, she remembered. Ah, yes, the spider. "No, no, I killed it." She stamped one of her booted feet for emphasis.

Maria's features relaxed in relief. "Oh, thank God!" Her face furrowed in concentration. "Wait…now I forgot what I was going to say." Comprehension dawned. "Oh, yeah, that's right. Matt was looking for you. He's out by catering."

"Thanks," Ashley replied. She wanted to say something else, but thought, with her state of mind, it would probably end up making no sense. She walked toward the door, hoping Maria wouldn't notice the phone on the floor and ask why she wasn't taking it with her. Luckily, the backstage reporter did neither; only gave the room another nervous glance before shutting the door.

As soon as it closed, the cell phone screen flickered to life again. The normal picture of a tropical sunset dissolved into static, static that went on for several long moments. Then, suddenly, the white noise disappeared, replaced by a pair of green eyes, cold, unblinking. Those eyes stared out from the screen for a second, then slowly rolled back until only the whites showed.

A low sinister chuckle floated up out of the phone's speaker as the screen went to black again.


	13. Chapter 13: Revenge Is Sweet

**A/N: SORRY about the delay; this is the chapter that refused to be written. I swear, every time I sat down to type, something came up. But, here it is, and Chapter 14 is almost done, so that should be up soon as well. Thank you so much to everyone who's read and reviewed! Hope you enjoy this next one! Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 13: Revenge Is Sweet

"Hey, Ash…you okay over there?"

Ashley turned from the car window she had been gazing out, her mouth curving upward in a small smile. "Yeah, Matt, I'm fine…I'm just thinking."

Matt Hardy leaned back in his seat, staring at the rookie Diva next to him. "Are you sure? You've been awful quiet this whole weekend."

The Diva Search winner remained silent for a few seconds. She ran both hands through her long hair, brushing blond and black strands back from her face. "I'm just tired," she finally replied. "Trish has been running me through the wringer training-wise these last few days…and it's not like the Wicked Witches of the Midwest take a day off."

The two of them sat in Matt's rental car in the parking garage of the Alltel Arena in Little Rock. It was early afternoon, so other Superstars and Divas were already starting to trickle in for the next broadcast of Monday Night Raw.

Ashley continued. "They poured _conditioner_ in my bag last night. Can you believe that? _Conditioner_. And then—this was the best part—Torrie tried to play it off like a total accident. Like the conditioner _magically_ flew out of the shower stall, across the room and somehow ended up all over my stuff." The rookie Diva laughed, the sound a trifle bitter. "Thank God for twenty-four-hour Laundromats."

"Want me to take care of them?" Matt's voice was joking, but there was an undercurrent of steel behind his tone which indicated that he was really completely serious. Its presence simultaneously comforted and chilled Ashley. She shook her head slowly.

"As much as I'd love seeing Candice take a Twist of Fate—no, I'll be fine." She looked up at the Raw Superstar next to her. "Besides, you've got your own problems to worry about."

Ashley didn't elaborate; she didn't have to. The hatred between Matt and his former best friend Edge had only intensified since the street fight, prompting Eric Bischoff to book the two of them in a Steel Cage Match at Unforgiven. With the pay-per-view still six days away, however, the battle between Matt and Edge had become a war of one-upsmanship…one which Lita did not hesitate to involve herself in as well.

Ashley had no doubt that the red-haired Diva disliked her, probably even loathed her. Every time she crossed paths with the Queen of Hardcore, she was met with silence and an icy glare—both of which scared her far more than Candice and Torrie's childish brand of torment. From the chilling intensity of Lita's gaze, she viewed the rookie Diva as a threat.

Which led Ashley to wonder: if Lita truly had severed her ties with Matt—why did she suddenly feel threatened by Ashley's relationship with him?

"It just pisses me off, seeing them treat you like crap," Matt was speaking now. His dark eyes bore into Ashley's. "Because I know what's that's like—and it sucks."

The Diva Search winner smiled again, a real smile this time. "Aren't we a pair?" she mused, her voice quiet.

"Yeah…yeah, we are." Matt murmured, reaching down to touch her face, gently cupping her cheek in his hand. Ashley's eyes drifted closed, and she tilted her head toward his palm. Matt leaned closer, his eyes closing as well. Just as they were about to come together, however, Ashley's irises fluttered open, instantly locking on some sight past Matt's shoulder. She gasped.

"Holy shit, is that Rey Mysterio?"

Matt was so startled that he almost hit his head on the ceiling of the car. He turned around to follow her gaze. The diminutive SmackDown Superstar was dressed in street clothes, but his brightly colored _lucha_ mask was unmistakable, even from a distance.

Matt chuckled and turned back around. "Yeah, that's Rey, all right. Have you ever met him? He's awesome. C'mon, I'll introduce you." He turned and fumbled for the door handle.

Ashley still looked confused. "But…what's a SmackDown Superstar doing at a Raw show?"

Matt looked back at her, shrugging as if this were no big deal. "Oh, it's a supershow. Both brands are here tonight." He finally succeeding in unlatching the door and pushed it open, emerging from the car and standing.

The rookie Diva, on the other hand, remained where she was, temporarily frozen by Matt's casual words.

_Both brands are here tonight…_

The Diva Search winner felt her heart racing in her chest, and pressed both hands over it, as though the sound was being amplified and she didn't want it to carry. The SmackDown roster was here tonight…which meant that Randy—

"Stop." Ashley's voice was strangled, barely above a murmur. She could barely collect her thoughts over the pounding in her ears. "It doesn't matter…anyway, I'm with Matt now."'

_Really?_...the little voice at the back of her mind whispered. _And did you ever tell Matt about the guy you kissed at Summerslam, the guy who won't stop calling you—_

"I've stopped answering his calls, haven't I?" Ashley muttered.

The voice sounded almost gleeful by now. _Is that because you want him out of your l ife…or because you're too terrified of what will happen when you answer the phone?_

"Stop." Ashley felt hot tears welling up in her eyes and forced them down. Her stomach lurched with fear, the sensation almost like nausea. _Those sounds, and then that bell…_ "Nothing happened," she spat out in a choked voice. Her tone sounded unconvincing even to her ears. "My phone just went haywire, that's all." She bent her head, her long hair falling forward and covering her face. "And as for Randy—there's nothing between us."

There was no response from the little voice, and Ashley was sure that this time, she had silenced it. But as she raised her head, it offered one final criticism before skittering back into the ether of her mind:

_Liar…_

Matt bent down, sticking his head back in the car. "Hey, Ash, you coming?"

Ashley jumped a little, startled by the sudden reappearance of the Raw Superstar. "Yeah… I just spaced out for a sec." She closed her fingers around the door handle, and taking a deep breath, pulled it outward and opened the door.

The rookie Diva planted both feet on the concrete floor and stood, ducking her head to avoid hitting it on the car frame. She cast her eyes downward, unwilling to look up, sure that as soon as she did, she would spot the last person she wanted to see. Just as she rounded the side of the car to pull her suitcase out of the trunk, her gaze involuntarily shot up, sweeping over the occupants of the garage.

Ashley tried to regain control of herself, but just as she did, her eyes locked onto the unmistakable figure of Randy Orton. The Diva Search winner felt her breath catch in her throat. She told herself to look away, but couldn't. She stood there, rooted to the spot, drinking in the movements of the Legend Killer.

Randy wore a long-sleeved dress shirt and slacks, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. He wheeled his suitcase along behind him. Walking next to him was Dave Batista, dressed similarly and displaying his World Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder. The Animal must have said something particularly funny, because the Legend Killer threw his head back and laughed, the sound carrying across the garage.

As soon as the reverberation of his laughter reached Ashley's ears, she felt the outside world hush into silence, and as improbable as it could have been, it seemed for a moment like she and Randy were the only two people there.

No sooner had the thought occurred to her then she saw the Legend Killer stiffen. He ground to a halt, and pausing for a moment, turned to look in her direction.

The rookie Diva's eyes widened and she quickly whirled around, turning her back to Randy, and almost whacking her nose on the open trunk door in the process. Matt had already lifted out both of their suitcases out, so Ashley ducked her head and pretended to be completely engrossed in pulling out the handle.

_Yeah, like he's not going to know it's you…_she told herself. _You're the only Diva on both rosters with black streaks in her hair. _Still, she kept her back turned, holding onto the illusion (however fragile it might be) and praying that the Legend Killer would not come closer for a better look.

She finally extended the handle on her suitcase, and turned a little toward Matt, forcing a smile on her face. "You ready?"

Matt, however, was staring off into the distance, frowning. "Randy Orton is staring at us." he remarked.

Ashley's heart plummeted into her stomach, and it took all she had to keep her expression neutral. "Really?" she managed to reply, pleased to note that there was only the slightest quaver to her voice. "You know him, too?"

Matt didn't look at her. "A little, back when we were both on Raw together. The guy's a douche." He turned toward the Diva Search winner, the frown easing into a smile. "Come on, let's go."

Ashley kept her head bowed as they walked across the garage, hoping that Matt would not see how much she was blushing. She did not so much as glance in the Legend Killer's direction.

* * *

Ashley was standing in front of her cubbyhole in the locker room, adjusting the buttons on her short plaid skirt when all of a sudden, her suitcase flew off the bench, landing face down on the floor. The rookie Diva spun around on her heel, her mouth agape, and was not at all surprised to see Candice on the other side of the bench, Torrie and Victoria flanking her on either side.

The brunette Diva glanced down toward the fallen suitcase, then shifted her dark eyes up to Ashley again, her face a picture of mock innocence. "Oops, sorry, my bad."

Ashley clenched her fists, her fingernails biting into her palms. She knew that Candice was not sorry. She also knew that the only way that suitcase could have ended up on the floor was by someone kicking it. More than anything, she wanted to jump the bench and wrap both of her hands around the brunette Diva's neck, but instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the evil triad. "What? What is it this time, Candice?"

Candice planted one hand on her hip, smirking. "I just thought I'd let you know: tonight, Torrie, Vicky and I have a _special surprise _for _you_—" She turned and glanced back at each of her partners, who sneered as well. The dark-haired Diva turned back toward Ashley. "—which we're going to show you, _tonight_, in the ring."

Ashley stepped closer, her voice taking on a sarcastic tone. "No, _really_? In the _ring_? I thought we were going to switch up my weekly humiliation and try the broom closet for a change of pace." She rolled her eyes. "Every week, _every _ _fucking week_ with this shit…"

Candice pouted, her beautiful features assuming a look of haughty contrition. "Language, _please_." She blinked her dark eyes, her expression almost beseeching. "What's with this attitude all of a sudden. I mean, have we _done_ something to upset you?"

Ashley waved her hand, cutting the other Diva off. "You know what? Just save it. I'm done listening to your bullshit." With that, she turned her back on the vicious trio.

Instantly, Candice's arrogant countenance twisted into something venomous and ugly. She reached out and grabbed Ashley's arm, yanking the rookie Diva back around. Her nails dug into Ashley's skin like tiny daggers. The brunette Diva leaned over the bench, practically spitting into the Diva Search winner's face. "You're done when _I_ say you're done, bitch!" she snarled.

Ashley felt fury billowing up inside her, bursting free of its cage. She latched onto Candice's hand with her own, twisting until she heard the other Diva yowl with pain. "Get your fucking hands off me!" the rookie Diva hissed through clenched teeth.

Strong hands grabbed her shoulder, throwing her backward. Ashley released her grip on Candice, and cried out involuntarily as the back of her skull connected with the hard wood of the shelves. The Diva Search winner slowly slid down to the floor, clutching her head in pain. She looked up to see Victoria standing over her, staring down at her with dislike that bordered on disgust.

Across the bench, Torrie put her arm consolingly around Candice's shoulders, clucking over her wounded wrist like a mother hen. The brunette Diva's gaze, however, was still fixed on Ashley, her eyes filled with loathing. "Careful, Ashley," she sneered, her face already resuming its customary expression of contempt. "You really shouldn't try to make me mad; it's not like you have anyone to watch your back."

Ashley couldn't speak; all the air had been knocked out of her lungs during the impact. Instead, she raised her hand up toward Candice, deliberately extending her middle finger.

Candice's smirk vanished. "Oh, you fucking skank—" She lunged toward Ashley again, Torrie struggling to hold her back. However, both of them froze at the sudden sound of the door opening, followed by Maria's voice:

"What's going on in here?"

Candice's dark eyes darted off to the side for a second, then focused on Ashley again. Her full lips curled in a spiteful smile. "I'll deal with _you_ later tonight," she told the rookie Diva in a low voice. Then, as though they had planned it somehow, she and her two friends turned to stare at the new arrival.

Maria froze where she stood, one hand still on the door handle. Her wide eyes registered fear.

Candice sauntered toward her, followed closely by Torrie and Victoria. "_Well_. If it isn't Raw's own backstage reporter." She circled Maria like a shark smelling blood in the water.

Torrie leaned down, jamming her face right into Maria's. "Got any big interviews tonight, 'Ria? Huh?"

Victoria jabbed her elbow into the backstage reporter's side, a little too hard to be joking. "What's it going to be tonight? Are you going to ask stupid questions—or just forget what you were going to say?"

Maria watched all of them warily for a few seconds, before blurting out: "Steph's looking for you. She's really pissed; she was saying something about if you don't get your ass to gorilla, she'll put you in a gauntlet match with one hand tied behind your back."

Candice scowled. "Shit." She turned to her two cronies. "Come on, girls. Looks like we'll have to save our fun for later." Turning gracefully on one slender stiletto, she blew out of the room in a cloud of light floral perfume and pure evil, Torrie and Victoria right behind her.

As soon as they were gone, Maria hurried across the room to where Ashley sat half-sprawled on the floor, kneeling down beside the Diva Search winner. "Are you okay? I was trying to get them out of here as quick as I could; that was the first thing that popped into my mind."

"No, no, it was great." Ashley managed to say, easing herself up with a wince of pain. She looked over at Maria admiringly. "Damn, girl! You are one _hell_ of a liar!"

Maria smiled and glanced down at her lap, but didn't say anything. Wordlessly, she helped Ashley to her feet. The rookie Diva dusted herself off, trying to ignore the slow throbbing in the back of her head.

"I _did_ have a message…just not from Steph." Raw's backstage reporter finally said. Ashley glanced over, a inquisitive look on her face. Maria met her eyes, and as soon as she did, the Diva Search winner knew exactly what she was going to say. Nevertheless, she couldn't stop a thrill of excitement from coursing through her body as Maria added:

"Trish said to tell you that tonight…_it's on_."

* * *

Candice looked out at the crowd, smirking haughtily at the fans who were simultaneously booing and ogling her. She raised the microphone to her lips. "You know, we've been having _so much_ fun with Ashley these past couple weeks." She turned and exchanged a knowing smile with Torrie and Victoria before continuing. "So we wanted to bring her out here _right now_ so that we can have _some more_ fun with her." She paused, letting the fans absorb this. "Plus, we have _another _very special surprise for her." The brunette Diva looked over at the top of the Titantron ramp. "So, Ashley, would you _pleeeease_ come down to the ring?" The false sympathy practically dripped off her words.

For a few moments, there was nothing; only the usual chorus of boos from a arena full of wrestling fans. Then, the strains of Audioslave hit and the 2005 Raw Diva Search winner strode out onto the stage, walking down the ramp. Like Candice, she too had a mic. But instead of heading to the ring, the rookie Diva stopped midway down the ramp, raising the microphone up to speak. "So you guys think—" she began before Torrie interrupted her.

"Whoa, wait a second, wait a second—" Torrie's tone sounded amused, but there was a definite hint of irritation in her voice. "Punky Brewster—I mean Ashley, Ashley—you want to stand all the way back there, do you?"

Instead of being offended by the comment, however, Ashley just lowered the mic and looked around, laughing, as if to say _Is she serious?_ A tiny line of confusion appeared on Torrie's forehead, but she continued nonetheless. "I mean, all we wanted to do was just let you know that you _finally_ passed your initiation! Aren't you excited?" Again, no response from the Diva Search winner. "So, come on, just come in the ring, let us _show you_ how excited we are to have you on Raw! Congratulations!"

A few seconds of silence passed before Ashley eventually lifted the mic up again. "You guys have gotta be kidding me!" she exclaimed, unable to hold back the glee in her voice. For the first time, bewilderment appeared on all three Diva's faces and they looked at each other for an explanation. What could Ashley possibly have to make her so confident? "You think I'm just gonna walk down to that ring with the _three _of you in there—so I can get jumped again? Well, you know what?"

Ashley's smile faded, and the warmth left her voice. "I _am_ coming down to that ring—" At this, Candice, Torrie and Victoria visibly relaxed, obviously thinking that the rookie Diva was merely making a big show of confidence and that things would proceed as they had the past three weeks. Ashley stared back at them calmly, savoring the next words that fell out of her mouth. "Only _this time_…I have a _special surprise for you_!" She pointed her finger directly at Candice.

Right on cue, the trademark giggle filled the arena, followed by the familiar hip-hop sound of Trish Stratus's entrance music. The fans leapt to their feet, cheering enthusiastically. In the ring, the color drained from both Candice and Torrie's faces.

Trish walked out onto the Titantron stage, holding up her Women's Championship and pointing to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," Ashley announced proudly. "I give you the Women's Champion—_Trish Stratus_!" A deafening ovation followed those words.

Trish reached Ashley's side, nodding almost imperceptibly. She then ran toward the ring, sliding under the ropes and leaping to her feet. Candice and Torrie were huddled in the corner, wailing like the world was about to end, but Victoria was not so easily intimidated. She stood her ground, only to be taken down by a Thesz press from Trish and nailed with a series of hard forearms.

Torrie must have worked up her courage, because the Boise blond ventured out of the corner, running to Victoria's aid and nailing her in the lower back with a vicious kick. Grabbing Trish by the hair, she hauled her off the raven-haired Diva, restraining her arms behind her.

Ashley had not remained in place during all this; she ran down to the ring almost immediately after Trish. She registered the double team, but didn't step in. Trish could handle those two, and besides, all she saw in her sights right now was Candice.

The brunette Diva obviously had decided that the ring was now safe again, because she had come out of the corner. It turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life; she had just enough time to turn her head before Ashley nailed her with a modified Spear, sending both of them through the ropes and outside of the ring.

There was a WOOOF as Candice hit the floor, the air forced out of her lungs. Ashley landed on top of her, the brunette Diva effectively breaking her fall. The rookie Diva grabbed a handful of Candice's long hair, hauling her up and bringing her face-to-face with Ashley.

Candice stared at her unbelievingly, her mouth struggling to form words. "But you…you're just a nobody—" she managed to slur. That was all she got out before Ashley wrapped her hands around her slender neck, pushing her backward against the security barrier, almost bending her in half. Candice's manicured hands flailed helplessly as she struggled for air, and Ashley stopped—but only with reluctance—when she saw the brunette Diva's face start to turn purple.

The Diva Search winner released her grip, and Candice sagged downward, sucking in oxygen gratefully. She gingerly massaged her bruised neck with one hand.

Ashley glanced back toward the ring, and saw Victoria running toward Trish, her forearm outstretched, ready to take her down with a clothesline. The rookie Diva was about to call out a warning when Trish arched her body backward into the Matrish. Victoria sailed right by her, and before she could put on the brakes, accidently clotheslined Torrie, sending the blond Diva right out of the ring. Ashley couldn't suppress a hoot of laughter at this sight.

Victoria stared over at the fallen form of her friend, chagrined at what she had done. She turned—and walked right into a Chick Kick. The black-haired Diva fell senseless to the mat.

Ashley turned back to Candice, who was still trying to catch her breath after being choked out on the security barrier. She leaned in close, enjoying watching Candice jump and whimper a little when she saw Ashley before her. "Your turn," the Diva Search winner whispered, and grabbing Candice by the hair again, pulled her up and threw her into the ring.

Candice rolled once or twice, slowly getting to her hands and knees, then her feet. During her struggle with Ashley, her skirt had been hiked up to her waist, and her bright red panties were on display for the entire WWE universe to see. She walked a few hesitant steps, then stopped when she saw the Women's Champion in front of her. Candice held out her hands beseechingly. Trish only raised an eyebrow and indicated that the brunette Diva should turn around. Candice did—and ate a huge clothesline from Ashley. She fell to the canvas, clutching her pretty face in pain.

Ashley stepped over her (not before adding a quick kick to Candice's ribs) and ran to Trish, throwing her arms exurberantly around the Women's Champion. Trish stiffened for a second, then returned the embrace. She stepped back, and Ashley held up her arm, pointing to the Canadian beauty. Trish pointed right back at her, and the two of them made their way around the four sides of the ring, acknowledging the fans.

The exhilaration and adrenaline racing through Ashley's veins made her light-headed, and as she drank in the applause of the fans, she knew that Torrie had been right about one thing.

She finally was a Raw Diva.

* * *

Maria was backstage when Trish and Ashley reentered the gorilla position, clapping her hands enthusiastically. "That was great! You guys were awesome!" she chirped.

"Thanks," Trish turned to Ashley, her expression becoming serious for a second. "This is just the beginning, you understand? Now that they know you and I are aligned, those three are going to hit us with everything they have. Are you ready for that?"

"Absolutely." The rookie Diva nodded her head vigorously. "After that—I'm ready for anything. _Bring it on!_"

Trish's face relaxed. "Great! That's just what I wanted to hear! Now, let's head back to the locker room and laugh at those bitches while they skulk around licking their wounds." She extended her hand for a low five, and Ashley slapped it.

"Sounds like a plan." The three Diva had just gone a few steps when a new voice spoke up from the corner of the gorilla position.

"Hey, Ash…great job out there."

Ashley turned in surprise, her mouth dropping open as Randy Orton stepped out of the shadows and walked toward her.


	14. Chapter 14: You Had Your Chance

**A/N: Finally, I'm moving back into the Ashley/Randy storyline. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed; you're awesome! Hopefully, you'll enjoy this one! Peace!**

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Chapter 14: You Had Your Chance

The Legend Killer had changed his clothes since the last time she had seen him; he now sported his wrestling gear and a black "R.K.O." t-shirt. Ashley found herself remembering their first encounter, how it had begun with a kiss—

Randy was speaking again. "Hey, Trish, welcome back. Ria! Long time, no see!" The whole time he was talking, however, his eyes never left Ashley's.

The rookie Diva couldn't speak; she was literally incapable of forming words. She was vaguely aware of her mouth moving up and down while no sound came out. Next to her, she felt Trish poking her hard in the side with her index finger. Obviously, Trish was not in the loop about this particular facet of her WWE experience.

Ashley tore her gaze away from those blue irises, grateful at least for the distraction. Before she could collect herself enough to say anything, however, Maria beat her to the punch. "I just remembered," she remarked, her voice as bright and bubbly as always. "Trish and I—we have to, um…go wash our hair. Bye!" Grabbing the arm of the Women's Champion, the backstage reporter dragged her off before she could ask any questions.

Leaving Ashley alone with the Legend Killer.

The Diva Search winner turned slowly, her mouth suddenly devoid of saliva. Her throat felt like the Sahara Desert. She stared at Randy, hoping that he couldn't hear her heart thumping in her chest. "Well," she managed to squeak, her voice sounding strangled.

"Well," the Legend Killer echoed, looking back at her. If he noticed her discomfort, he wasn't showing it. His expression was friendly enough, but there was something in his eyes that Ashley just couldn't identify. Randy glanced down, temporarily breaking his spell on her. "Listen, uh…I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes."

"Sure," Ashley replied before she could stop herself. She mentally kicked herself and forced a smile onto her face. "What about?"

Randy looked around, taking in the technicians and road agents scurrying around gorilla. "Not here; someplace more private." As soon as he said "private", Ashley felt the bottom of her stomach drop out and she swayed a little on her feet, but her smile never wavered. Walking on legs that no longer felt like they belonged to her, she followed the Legend Killer out into the hallway.

This was obviously not Randy's first visit to the Alltel Arena, because he navigated the corridors with ease. Ashley didn't attempt to take note of her surroundings, only focused on the broad back of the Legend Killer. She was having a hard enough time trying to kick-start her brain back into awareness; everything seemed to have taken on the surreal quality of a dream. But then Randy halted abruptly, causing Ashley to crash into his back with an "OOF!". As soon as she felt the soft texture of the cotton shirt and the warm skin burning beneath it, she knew that this was no dream.

The rookie Diva looked around. She and Randy were in a deserted hallway, with several black equipment crates lining one wall. Ashley moved toward these instantly, wanting something solid to hold onto for her conversation with the Legend Killer. She rested her hand on one, then turned around, fixing her eyes on the SmackDown Superstar. As soon as those azure irises locked on hers, however, she felt her pulse race.

Randy looked off to the side, his lips moving silently, as though he was rehearsing what he was going to say. Then, he suddenly shook his head and stared back at her, his eyes bright with indignation. "What the hell is up with you?" he demanded. Ashley was so shocked that she couldn't reply. Randy obviously hadn't been waiting for one, because he rushed on. "I call and I call and you don't answer. I thought you were in an accident or something; I'm freaking out…and out of the blue tonight, I see you in the garage, just laughing it up with Matt Hardy, which means that for the past two weeks, you've been ignoring me." He stared hard at her with a look that was a few degrees removed from a glare.

Ashley's speechlessness was washed away in the flood of anger that swept over her. Striding forward, she jabbed her finger against the Legend Killer's chest, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at him. "Excuse me? _Excuse me_? _I've_ been ignoring _you_? You're one to talk—you can't just push someone away and not call them for a week and then act like nothing happened."

As soon as she spoke, she saw the irritation drain out of Randy's features, replaced by something that could have almost been sadness. "Ash—about that…I'm sorry—"

"Yeah, well, it's a few weeks too late," the rookie Diva retorted furiously. She hadn't missed the change that had come over Randy's features, but she was too far gone to stop now. She whirled around, turning away from the Legend Killer, heading back toward the equipment crates. She stopped, looking back at him. "But why should I be surprised? From what I hear, you've done the same thing to pretty much the entire Diva roster."

A pained expression passed over Randy's face, and Ashley realized with a sinking feeling that at least some of the rumors about him had been true. Incredibly, she felt the urge to burst into tears at this, but forced it down, swallowing her misery. "So it _is_ true," she murmured, more to herself than to him. The Diva Search winner rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, a harsh laugh escaping her throat. "Oh my God, I cannot believe that I actually fell for your stupid man-whore lines, all that crap about me being interesting and how much you like me—"

She moved forward, pushing past the Legend Killer, still talking over her shoulder. "Yeah, I'm _interesting_, all right. I bet you and your friend Dave sit down and talk about how hot I'd be if I'd just take the stud out of my lip and wash that crap out of my hair. I bet that's why you couldn't bring yourself to kiss me, because you can't get past how I _look_—"

Her words ended in a surprised shriek as Randy grabbed her arm, spinning her around and throwing her against him. Ashley pressed both hands against his chest to steady herself, staring up fearfully into his eyes. The Legend Killer took hold of her other arm, holding her tight. His expression was a combination of sadness, anger, and something else. Something that couldn't be expressed in words. Ashley understood it, though, because in one form or another, she had been feeling it since the day she had met him.

Randy looked down at her, his blue eyes boring into hers. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. "_You_…have absolutely no idea what goes through my head when I look at you," The words sent a bolt of electricity through Ashley, paralyzing her. For the first time, she was acutely aware of their close proximity.

Slowly, but deliberately, Randy moved toward her, forcing her to back up. It wasn't until Ashley felt her back hit the wall that she realized what he was doing…and that she didn't want him to stop. Randy let go of her arm, his hand grazing her shoulder, her neck, coming to rest on her cheek. As soon as he touched her skin, Ashley heard a low moan escape her throat. The Legend Killer leaned closer, his eyes still fixed on her. The Diva Search winner's eyes closed, and as Randy's lips brushed against hers—

--The image of Matt in the trainer's room, with blood pouring down his face, popped into her head, accompanied by Trish's admonishment:

_He didn't deserve what happened to him, and he shouldn't have to get his heart broken again…_

With a tremendous effort, Ashley blurted out: "I have a boyfriend!" Surprised, Randy reared back, letting go of her. Ashley stared back at him, wanting to forget about Matt, wanting nothing more than for Randy to keep on holding her, but somehow forcing herself to say: "And you…you had your chance."

The look of hurt that appeared on the Legend Killer's face was so painful that Ashley couldn't look at him anymore. With a hasty "I'm sorry," she pushed herself off the wall and ran down the hallway, away from Randy.

It was only after she had turned the corner and was out of his sight that she burst into tears.

* * *

Matt was in a foul mood following the show. He had lost his tag match thanks to outside interference from his ex-girlfriend. And if that hadn't been bad enough, Lita had hit him with a Twist of Fate of her own following the match's conclusion. He was nice enough not direct any of his animosity toward Ashley, but doing so made him a poor conversationalist.

Privately, Ashley was glad. She didn't think that she'd be able to fake her way through a conversation, not after what had happened in the hallway. It was a struggle just putting one foot in front of the other, because all she could see was the look in Randy's eyes. And what he had said—

_You have absolutely no idea what goes through my head when I look at you…_

What did he mean by that? Ashley didn't know, but she was finding with each passing second that she _wanted_ to know. More than that…she wanted to be back with Randy in that hallway, feeling his hands on her face...

The rookie Diva gave herself a quick mental shake. _Stop that_…she told herself sternly. _You're with Matt, and he's a great guy—_

_But he's not Randy…_a small voice inside her whispered, and Ashley knew that she didn't have an answer to that.

She turned back, hoping to fix her eyes on something to distract her, and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Randy standing at the entrance to the parking garage. His blue eyes were fixed on her. With a quick nod of his head, he indicated that he wanted to talk to her.

Ashley didn't realize that she had been holding her breath until her chest grew unbearably tight, and even then, she had to force herself to breathe, coughing as she did so.

Matt turned, looked back at her with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Ashley nodded, her face turning bright red as she struggled to control herself. "I'm fine," she managed to say. "I just need…some water. I'm just gonna go find a fountain, okay?" Matt nodded, and the Diva Search winner turned to leave, grateful that he could no longer see how much she was blushing.

As she walked across the parking garage, she felt light-headed and she realized (not without some regret) that this was the first time she had lied to Matt.

_Not the first time…_she thought silently_. In a way, you were lying to him long before this…_ She entered the hallway, trying not to look back and forth. Randy had vanished, probably because he knew that Matt was watching. A corridor running perpendicular was on her left, and as she passed by it, she heard Randy hiss: "Hey, Ash, over here!"

Ashley hung a quick left, hoping that it looked entirely natural, and moved into the hallway. Doing so once again brought her face to face with the Legend Killer. Just looking into his eyes made her heart momentarily skip a beat, but the rookie Diva forced herself to act casual. "What do you want?" she demanded in a loud whisper. "I can't stay for long; Matt thinks I'm here to get water."

Randy looked down at his feet, and Ashley caught a sense of uncertainty rising from him. This stunned her; the Legend Killer was one of the most confident Superstars she'd ever seen—what did he have to be nervous about?

Randy glanced back up, and all of Ashley's logical thoughts were swept away by the intense pure blue of his gaze. "Look," he blurted out. "I know what you said back there, and I'll respect that if you want, but—" He stopped, looked off to the side, bit his lip, then looked back at her again. "I have to see you again."

"What?" Ashley exclaimed, unable to utter anything more complex than that one-word question.

Randy rushed on. "Next Tuesday…come to SmackDown."

Ashley frowned, moving back a step and shaking her head. "Oh no, not that SmackDown shit again—"

"_Please_." The Diva Search winner had never heard Randy sound so pleading, and it was that plea that wiped the frown from her face. "Please," Randy repeated, staring intently into her eyes. "I wouldn't be asking you…if I didn't mean it."

Every iota of common sense in Ashley's body was screaming at her to refuse, begging her to say no, but by now, it was her heart that was in control.

And it was her heart that spoke when she replied: "All right…next Tuesday…I'll come to SmackDown."


	15. Chapter 15: At A Distance

**A/N: Thank you to **Medieval Mystic, xAttitudex, .CMPunkluver, Writinglove101, rory21, **and** Ashleymassarophan1 **for reviewing the last chapter! You all are awesome! Thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far. I've been having some writer's block issues with this story, so your reviews are really encouraging. **

**This chapter and the next one might seem kind of slow, but I'm trying to set stuff up for later. Hopefully, you'll enjoy! Peace!

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Chapter 15: At A Distance

Ashley pressed down the door handle, pushing the door open and walking into the hotel room. Maria and Trish were both waiting for her. The backstage reporter was trying to make her curiosity less conspicuous by pretending to read a magazine; Ashley wondered if she knew that she was holding it upside down. Trish, on the other hand, was making no such pretenses; she had moved one of the chairs directly in front of the door, and was straddling it, elbows propped up on its back. Her eyes were glued to the rookie Diva.

Ashley smiled weakly and waved, hoping that Trish's interrogation would not be too brutal. After tonight, she didn't think that she had the emotional strength to answer a barrage of questions without bursting into tears.

Maria looked up as Ashley entered, her face lighting up with one of her characteristic smiles. "Hey, you're back!" she remarked, her voice as effervescent as ever.

Trish's stony expression, however, did not change. Wordlessly, she pointed to one of the beds, indicating that Ashley should sit. The Diva Search winner propped her suitcase up against the wall, and then took a seat. Unconsciously, she started twisting her hands together, and as soon as she realized what she was doing, she snatched them off her lap and sat on them.

The Women's Champion tilted her chin up, eying Ashley for several seconds without speaking. When she finally did speak, her tone was emotionless. "First order of business—while you were gone, Bischoff called me into his office and told me that he signed a Diva tag match for Unforgiven—Torrie and Victoria versus you and me."

The unexpected news hit the rookie Diva like a blow, almost knocking her back. A match? On a pay-per-view? Not just a stupid Lingerie Pillow Fight, but a _real_ wrestling match? Ashley blinked, struggling to speak. "That's—that's _great_!" she exclaimed. "I can't—I can't believe it."

Trish continued as though the Diva Search winner hadn't spoken. "So just so you know, come this Friday—I'm expecting you to work your ass off, okay? A pay-per-view match—that's the real deal, and there's no room for fucking up." Ashley almost winced at the brusqueness of Trish's tone. Apparently, the Women's Champion was in a _mood_.

The Canadian beauty fixed her eyes on the rookie Diva, her expression still unreadable. Leaning back, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Now that _that's_ out of the way…what the _hell_ is going on between you and Randy Orton?"

The abrupt change in topic, particularly to one she was loath to talk about, sucked the air out of Ashley's lungs and she broke into a fit of coughing. "Nothing," she managed to say after several uncomfortable seconds. "There's nothing going on between us."

Trish raised her fist to her mouth, making a phony show of coughing. "Cough, cough—_bullshit_!-- cough, cough," She looked back up at the Diva Search winner with an expression that could have almost been disdain. "Seriously, how dumb do you think I am? He called you _Ash_…and from the way you two were looking at each other, it was pretty obvious that this wasn't the first time you've crossed paths."

Ashley opened her mouth to deny it again, then thought better of it. There was really no point in lying anymore; besides, it wasn't like Trish was going to go blab to Matt or anything. The rookie Diva sighed, looking down at the floor, her long hair obscuring her face. Finally, she pushed it back with one hand, and looked up. "Okay, here's what happened…"

Slowly, haltingly, she told Trish and Maria the story of her dysfunctional relationship with the Legend Killer, beginning with Candice getting in her face at SummerSlam, and ending with Randy's encounter a few hours ago. The only things she left out were Randy's invitation to SmackDown and the few weird incidents that she had experienced; the first because she didn't want to get yelled at.

The second because she didn't want Trish or Maria to think she was losing her mind.

As soon as she finished, Trish spoke again. "When I saw the name on your phone last week, I thought I was just seeing things. But now, after what you just told me…" Her voice trailed off and she looked at Ashley, her gaze piercing. "What about Matt? Have you told him?"

"Told him what?" the rookie Diva shot back, starting to get pissed off, but not really caring. "That I kissed Randy Orton a month ago because of a stupid dare?"

"Um, no, how about: you've been sneaking around with the Legend Killer behind his back?" Trish retorted, anger beginning to creep into her voice as well.

Ashley shook her head. "No way; this thing with Randy was over before I ever met Matt."

"Yeah?" the Women's Champion countered. "From what I saw in gorilla, _this thing_ is a _long_ way from over—for both of you."

"Look, what do you want me to do?" Ashley demanded. She ran her fingers through her black-streaked hair as she spoke. "It's not like I want to cheat on Matt or anything!"

"Then why are you fooling around with Randy?" Trish's voice was nearing a scream.

The Diva Search winner shot to her feet, indignation flooding her body at this accusation. "I'm not _fooling around_!" She realized that she was shouting as well and wondered vaguely if either of the rooms next to theirs was occupied. A few feet away, Maria watched the argument silently, her green eyes wide.

Ashley continued, pacing as she spoke. "God, I wish I could explain it to you! I like Matt, I really do—but even when I'm with him, I can't stop thinking about Randy's eyes or the way it feels when he touches me." She ground to a halt, looking over at the Women's Champion. "And the worst part is: I don't even know why. Okay? I _don't know_ why I can't stop thinking about him; all I know is that I can't." The rookie Diva fell silent, sinking back down onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. "I don't know what to do," she finished, her voice muffled.

Trish was quiet for a few moments. When she spoke again, her voice had softened, but only slightly. "Well, you better figure out what to do right soon because it's not fair to Matt." She looked off into the corner, her tone growing bitter. "_Especially _for someone like Randy."

Ashley looked up sharply, taking her hands from her face. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" She looked from Trish to Maria, but received an answer from neither one. The Diva Search winner felt her face flushing with ire. "Okay, I'm getting sick of this. All anyone can tell me is to stay away from him—but no one will tell me why. What, am I supposed to be a mind reader or something?"

"Don't ask me," Trish spoke, but didn't look at Ashley. She nodded back over her shoulder. "Ask 'Ria." At this, Raw's backstage reporter froze, her wide eyes growing even larger.

Ashley glanced over at Maria, an expectant expression on her face. The former Diva Search contestant gulped, her eyes darting from Ashley to Trish. "Trish, I really don't—"

"Tell her!" the Women's Champion interjected sharply, her voice harsh. For the first time, she looked up at Ashley. She continued, her tone warming a little. "She needs to hear it."

Maria looked down at her lap, examining the nails on one hand. She didn't look up, and when she eventually did speak, her voice was so soft that Ashley had to strain to hear her. "Randy and I dated for a while. It was a long time ago—I think it was last year—and it was only for a month or two." The backstage reporter hesitated for a moment, then went on. "I knew…I knew that I wasn't the first Diva he'd dated—but I hoped I would be the last." Another pause. " I was wrong."

She looked up, meeting Ashley's eyes. "The whole time we were together, he never let me get close. It was like…there was this door between him and me, and every time I'd think that he was finally opening up, it would slam shut, leaving me outside. "

Ashley thought about the first time she had met Randy, how he had grabbed her hand before she could touch him, how his eyes had changed, shutting him off from her.

"Well?" Trish spoke now, her question directed at Maria. The backstage reporter shook her head rapidly, ducking her chin. Apparently, there was more to the story, but Maria was reluctant to relate it. The Women's Champion fixed her eyes on Ashley again. "What 'Ria doesn't want to say is that after a month or two of leading her along—he dumped her for Stacy Keibler."

"He didn't dump me!" Maria protested, looking up. "It wasn't…I mean…" She trailed off, obviously lost for words.

Trish gazed at the backstage reporter sympathetically. "'Ria, he didn't even call you to tell you that it was over. That sounds like getting dumped to me." Maria didn't reply, only ducked her head again. The Canadian beauty turned back to Ashley. "At least he was clearer with Stacy—there's only one way you can interpret an RKO in the middle of the ring."

The Diva Search winner felt her heart leap into her throat. "_What_? Are you serious—he did that? To a _Diva_?"

Trish nodded soberly. "And here's the best part: it wasn't because of anything that _she_ did…Randy was just sending a message to the Undertaker, proving how brave he was." Disgust flashed across her face. "The guy makes me sick."

Ashley couldn't speak; her heart filled her throat, making words impossible. Luckily, Trish wasn't finished. "What I'm trying to say is: all Randy cares about…all he _really _cares about…is his career. Dating Divas…it's just a status thing to him. Maybe he and Dave Batista have a belt somewhere that they're notching, I don't know. But if you go with him, he'll always keep you at a distance—right up until the point where he uses you to 'send a message' to his opponents. Is that how you want to end up, unconscious in the center of the ring?"

She didn't give the rookie Diva a chance to reply. "Matt is a good guy, a _great_ guy. He didn't deserve what he got—and he shouldn't have to go through it again, especially for a douchebag like Randy Orton." Trish stopped and looked at Ashley. "Trust me on this one; just leave the guy alone. He's not worth it."

Ashley didn't respond at first. She pushed her hair back with both hands, placing them over her ears and temporarily shutting out the world. What Trish had said…it made sense, and it dovetailed in several of her own experiences involving the Legend Killer. Matt _was_ a great guy, and there was no reason she shouldn't be happy with him.

And yet…and yet…

_You have absolutely no idea what goes through my head when I think of you_…

What if they were wrong? What if _Randy_ was her destiny, not Matt? What if this confusion was because she was falling in love…with the Legend Killer?

_No…_she told herself sharply. _I'm not…I'm not…I won't…_

And yet…

_NO. If I love anyone, it's gonna be Matt, not some guy who can't even make up his mind about me._

The rookie Diva looked up, taking her hands off her ears. She nodded. "You're right…you're right." She paused for a second. "I won't see him anymore."

As she spoke those words, she wondered who she really lying to: Trish…or herself.


	16. Chapter 16: Unforgiving Emotion

**A/N: Once again, sorry about the delay. I was swamped with finals and writer's block; a lethal combination. But I'm back, with a new chapter and a month's worth of free time on my hands. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it.**

**Thank you to **Medieval Mystic, .CMPunkluver, xAttitudex, **and **rory21 **for reviewing the last chapter; you guys are awesome!**

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Chapter 16: Unforgiving Emotion

Victoria tightened the front face lock she had on Ashley, cutting off just a little bit more of the rookie Diva's oxygen. Looking around at the booing Oklahoma City crowd and smirking, she hoisted Ashley up effortlessly and threw her over her shoulder in a snap suplex, driving the Diva Search winner spine-first into the mat.

Back in their corner, Trish pounded her hand against the turnbuckle pad, her beautiful face set in an expression of intensity. "Come on, Ash!" she yelled, her voice somewhere between encouraging and exasperated. "Get up!"

_Easy for you to say_… Ashley thought vaguely to herself, as she struggled—unsuccessfully—to draw breath back into her body. Her entire back was a fiery wall of pain. She felt as though she had been slammed against concrete. Winning the match had become secondary; right now, she was just hoping that she would able to walk after this.

The Unforgiven pay-per-view was in progress. Trish and Ashley's tag match against Torrie and Victoria was second on the card. The bout had actually been going fairly well: Ashley had gotten some good offensive moves in on Victoria and had been going for the pin when Torrie had interfered, hauling the rookie Diva off her friend and throwing her out of the ring. The back of Ashley's head had connected painfully with the thin protective padding, and from that point on, she saw everything around her through a haze of dizziness.

It hadn't helped matters that Candice (who was, naturally, at ringside) had taken this golden opportunity to get in a few cheap shots of her own. It also hadn't helped that Candice was wearing spike heels.

In the ring, Victoria grabbed Ashley's leg and arm, dragging her closer to one of the corners, but still keeping her a good distance away from her tag partner. Pausing a moment to survey her handiwork, the raven-haired Diva climbed up the ropes to the top turnbuckle, planning to hit the Diva Search winner with some sort of aerial offense.

Ashley watched her ascend dimly, her head still swimming from the collision on the outside. She was vaguely aware that she could not withstand much more abuse from the former Women's Champion and still hope to win the match. She needed to tag in the worst way. But how? Trish's voice seemed miles away, and Ashley couldn't even work up the strength to roll over.

As she lay there, awaiting the inevitable, an image popped into her mind—the look that was going to be on Candice's face if Ashley lost this match for her team. That did it. The rookie Diva's eyes narrowed. With a burst of adrenaline fueling her limbs, she pushed herself up off the mat, staggering a few steps and falling against the top rope. The force of it knocked the Vicious Vixen off-balance and she fell, straddling the turnbuckle in a way that would have made any guy cringe.

Ashley didn't stop to watch her handiwork, however. Feeling her way along the rope, she limped toward her corner, blindly extending her hand for the tag. She felt Trish's palm connect with hers, and gratefully dropped to the mat, rolling out of the ring. Taking a moment or two to take a few much-needed deep breaths, she crawled up the steel steps to the turnbuckle post, pulling herself back up to her feet and grabbing a handful of the tag rope. She pushed her long hair back from her face as she observed her tag partner in action.

The Women's Champion ran toward Victoria. In one graceful motion, she flipped her body upward and locked the raven-haired Diva in the Stratosphere, throwing her back down to the canvas. Dropping back down, she nailed Victoria with several hard forearms, backing her up against the ropes before grabbing her arm and swinging her around in an Irish whip. Victoria reversed the motion, however, hurtling Trish toward the corner of the opposition, where Torrie was on already up on the apron. The Boise beauty grabbed a handful of Trish's hair, intending to restrain her. But the Women's Champion twisted free, whirling around and giving Torrie a nasty slap to the face, sending the other Diva flying off the apron.

Trish turned back around to deal with Victoria, and was greeted with a stiff boot to the gut. The Women's Champion doubled over and the Vicious Vixen lifted her off the ground, setting her up for a spinning side slam. As she swung Trish down toward the mat, the Canadian blond locked her ankles around Victoria's neck, reversing the maneuver into a head scissors, and throwing the other Diva to the mat. Trish was immediately back up on her feet, fists clenched in front of her.

Torrie, apparently recovered from her fall off the apron, scrambled into the ring and charged toward Trish with her forearm outstretched for a clothesline. The Women's Champion already had her scouted, however; arching her body backward into the Matrish, leaving's Torrie arm to connect with nothing but empty air. Trish straightened up, then hit both Victoria and Torrie with a double clothesline, knocking the villainous Divas to the ground.

Ashley watched Trish's offensive attacks with awe. Despite the rigorous training that the Women's Champion had put her through the last couple days, she knew that she was nowhere near the level of the other Divas in the ring, and certainly not near the caliber of Trish Stratus. She silently cursed herself for being the weak link in the team. Hopefully, with Trish's assistance, though, she would not remain the weak link for very much longer.

On the canvas, the Women's Champion hit Victoria, then Torrie, with a second clothesline. Grabbing the Vicious Vixen by the hair, she pulled her back up unceremoniously and hit her with another kick to the abdomen. She went for the Irish whip a second time. Victoria tried to reverse it, but instead of giving in to the momentum, Trish picked up the raven-haired Diva and slammed her to the mat with a modified spinebuster.

The Canadian beauty dropped down, grabbing Victoria's leg and hooking it for the pin. Unfortunately, the referee was distracted by Candice, who had chosen that particular moment to stick her body in between the ropes and shriek like a banshee. Ashley already had one leg in the ring before she saw that Trish was taking care of it. The Women's Champion got to her feet, a look of disgust marring her pretty face. The rookie Diva heard her epithet all the way on the other side of the ring: "You little bitch…"

Trish grabbed two handfuls of Candice's long hair, dragging her bodily into the ring. Candice shrieked and kicked frantically. Unfortunately, she was saved by the intervention of the referee, who threatened Trish with a disqualification if she didn't release the brunette Diva. The Women's Champion let down, albeit reluctantly. Candice fell to the mat in a mewling heap of gold fabric and dark hair, rolling out of the ring and balancing unsteadily on her stiletto heels.

Ashley pressed her lips together grimly. With her free hand, she touched the tender area on her side, where those same stiletto heels had dug into her skin. She glanced toward her tag partner once more, then abruptly let go of the tag rope, hopping down the stairs and storming toward Candice.

The brunette Diva had just regained her equilibrium when Ashley reached her side. She turned, her dark eyes widening when she saw the chilly countenance of the Diva Search winner. Candice tried to run, but Ashley quickly grabbed her by the hair, pulling the other Diva back toward her. "Where're you going, bitch?" she spat, her tone mocking. "Huh?" With both hands, she slammed Candice's head against the ring apron as hard as she could. The brunette Diva fell to the ground, her inference—in this match, at least—over.

The rookie Diva turned back toward the ring. Trish had just hit Victoria and Torrie with some offensive maneuver which—from the enthusiastic cries of the fans—must have been pretty damn impressive. Ashley quickly jogged back up the steps to her corner, but it turned out to be unnecessary: one Chick Kick to Victoria was all Trish needed to secure the win for her team.

The Diva Search winner slipped through the ropes, running over to her tag partner and enveloping her in an enthusiastic hug. Trish returned the embrace, then held up Ashley's arm, acknowledging the rookie Diva as well as herself.

Outside the ring, Torrie helped Candice back to her feet. The brunette Diva pushed her away impatiently. "Get off me, Tor; I'm _fine_!" She glanced toward the ring, where Trish and Ashley were both posing for the arena of fans. Candice's dark eyes narrowed to small slits, and her gorgeous face became almost ugly as it twisted in a snarl of hatred.

As though she could feel the burn of Candice's gaze, Ashley turned to look at the two Divas. Her reaction was the exact opposite of Candice's, however: her mouth curved upward in a small smile of satisfaction, and bending over toward them, she blew them both a kiss.

The brunette Diva shrieked, lunging toward the ring. "_Whore_!" Torrie grabbed her arm to stop her, almost getting knocked down in the process. Candice had become a raging hellcat, her eyes shooting malevolent sparks. She didn't even seem to notice Torrie's grip on her arm; all of her focus was on the Diva Search winner in the ring. "You bitch, you'll pay for this! You hear me? When I get my hands on you—"

"Candy! _Candy_!" Torrie exclaimed, trying to get her friend's attention. "Calm down! We'll get her back for this, okay?" She looked toward the ring as well, her blue eyes becoming cold and calculating.

"We'll get her back for this," she repeated, more to herself this time than to Candice.

* * *

When Ashley and Trish returned to the gorilla area, they were greeted with a round of applause from crew members and road agents. The ovation was brief, with everyone soon returning to their various tasks. Admiration or not, there was still the rest of the pay-per-view to get through.

"Hey, Trish, great match," The two Divas turned to see the massive seven-foot frame of the Big Show. How they had managed to overlook him the first time, Ashley didn't know. The World's Largest Athlete looked over, nodding and smiling at the Diva Search winner. "You, too, Ashley. Nice work."

Ashley smiled, touched by the compliment. "Thanks, Show," she replied, before realizing that wasn't really his name. "I-I mean, Paul. Sorry!" Her cheeks flushed pink at her inadvertent slip.

Big Show was already tilting his head back and laughing. "Show's fine; don't worry about it." He jammed his thumb toward the Women's Champion. "Keep hanging around Trish and hopefully, we'll see a lot more great matches like that." With that, he turned back toward the black curtain, the smile already disappearing as he prepared for his upcoming match.

The two Divas made their way out of gorilla, stopping a few times to chat or accept compliments. When they eventually reached the hallway, Trish looked over at her tag team partner, talking as they walked. "He's right, you know. You did a good job out there."

Ashley shook her head, her smile a trifle bitter. "Yeah, I did _real _good—falling on my head and almost losing the match for us."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about that," Trish replied, her voice sympathetic. "All of us take bad bumps like that sooner or later." She leaned closer. "To be honest, when Torrie threw you out of the ring, I wasn't even thinking about the match; I was too worried that you tweaked your neck or got a concussion or something." She eyed the Diva Search winner critically. "Are you sure you're all right? Do you need to go to the trainer's room?"

The rookie Diva shook her head in the negative again. "Nah, I'll be fine. I mean, later, I might stop by for some aspirin, but right now, I think I can make it back to the locker room in one piece."

They had gone a few feet further when a technician wearing a headset stopped them. "Hey, Trish, message from Bischoff; he wants to see you in his office right now."

Trish frowned. "What the—again? Now?" The technician shrugged noncommittally and walked away, his errand completed. The Women's Champion blew air out impatiently between her lips. "_Fuck_." She shifted her gaze back to Ashley. "Sorry, but when Eric says 'Dance'…" She let the thought trail off. "Do you mind heading back without me? I'll meet you back in the locker room as soon as I'm finished."

Ashley nodded. "Sure, I'll be fine, don't worry."

The Canadian blonde's face lit up in a mischievous smile. "Maybe if we're lucky, I'll get back in time to watch those three slink back in."

Ashley laughed, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Ooh, ooh! If you do, can we sing 'The Goodbye Song' this time? That would be _sweet_!"

"Well, when you put it _that_ way…" Trish replied, trying to hold back a giggle or two of her own. "I'll be back as quick as I can. Most likely, Bischoff's just going to tell me that since I'm well enough to win a tag match, I'm well enough to put the title on the line again." Her face briefly creased in a grimace of dislike. "How much you want to bet that Victoria's the first one he throws at me?"

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it," the Diva Search winner answered, finger-combing her hair back from her face. "Especially after that Chick Kick you just gave her tonight." The two of them were quiet for a second or two, and then Ashley nodded in the direction they had just come from. "Quick, go see what he wants, and then come back so we can sit in the corner of the room and act obnoxious."

"Okay, see you in a bit," Trish hoisted her Women's Championship a little more securely onto her shoulder, then strode away quickly. Ashley watched her depart for a second, and then turned to resume her trek back to the locker room.

As she walked, she thought about Trish's change in attitude. The last couple of days, the Women's Champion had been distant, bordering on rude, and the most Ashley had been able to get out of her was terse praise if she managed to execute a move correctly. Now, all of a sudden, Trish was her best friend again, as though the tension between them had never existed in the first place. And Ashley knew that if she questioned the Women's Champion, Trish would just claim that she had been trying to get the rookie Diva properly prepared for her first pay-per-view match. But it was more than that. The Diva Search winner had no doubt that said tension between her and Trish was a direct result of the near-argument they'd had last week…and an indirect result of her complicated relationship with Randy.

Just thinking about the Legend Killer brought back memories of their encounter in the hallway, of the way heat had rushed all the way down to her toes when Randy's lips had grazed hers. It hardly could have been called a kiss…so why did it feel like so much more?

The rookie Diva sighed. Trish had been right about one thing: she needed to make a decision and soon. The longer she remained in this indecisive limbo, the greater the chance somebody would get hurt.

_He'll always keep you at a distance…right up until the point where he uses you to send a message…_The right choice, the _smart_ choice would be to no-show SmackDown this Tuesday; to erase Randy's number from her phone and toss that "R.K.O" t-shirt in the trash. But whenever Ashley thought about this option, she couldn't help but remember the need in his eyes when he had grabbed her and pushed her against the wall…or the hurt and pain when she had told him that he'd had his chance.

Whatever his motives were, there was some vein of genuine emotion compelling Randy Orton to pursue her; emotion that (just like hers) confused and scared the hell out of him. And as much as she didn't want to hurt Matt, Ashley knew deep down in her heart that she couldn't stay away from the Legend Killer, any more than he could stay away from her.

She turned a corner, holding onto the edge of the wall and using the momentum to swing herself around. The motion sent a fresh flicker of pain down her already-sore back, and the Diva Search winner winced. Maybe she should have taken up Trish's offer to stop at the trainer's. But Ashley mentally shook off her discomfort. After all, she'd _wanted_ to be a wrestler, and bumps and bruises like this were part of a wrestler's territory. She'd wait it out, and if it still felt like someone was using her vertebrae as a xylophone, she'd grab an icepack and down a couple Advil.

The rookie Diva let her gaze drift back to the hallway in front of her—then froze, almost falling over as she ground to an abrupt halt. About ten feet away, a figure was just exiting one of the locker rooms. A very familiar figure with long dark red hair.

Lita.

Ashley took a step or two backward, wondering if she could reverse her path back around the corner before the Queen of Hardcore saw her. Too late: Lita's brown eyes locked onto hers, and her self-satisfied expression stiffened, slowly morphing into one of icy contempt. Hooking one of her thumbs into her belt loop, she sauntered toward the rookie Diva.

Ashley couldn't move; her legs seemed to have taken root in the cement floor beneath her. She could only watch as the red-haired Diva approached her, her movements as lithe as those of a snake. She could almost see the coiled strength and power in Lita's body, and realized that it would not take very much time or effort on the other Diva's part to hurt her. Ashley wasn't scared, not yet, but a sliver of unease was slowly working its way through her insides.

Lita grew nearer and nearer, until she was face-to-face with the Diva Search winner—and then kept going, maneuvering deftly around Ashley without touching her. The rookie Diva felt the air leave her body in a sigh of relief. _At least THAT'S over_…she thought to herself, then tensed when she heard Lita's throaty alto voice behind her, practically right in her ear.

"So I'm in the locker room, trying to get my man Adam warmed up for his big match against Matt Hardy, and I look over at the monitor and I see this little blonde skank in the ring, just botching _every move_," Ashley's eyes widened and she spun around to face the Queen of Hardcore, clenching her teeth together so her jaw wouldn't drop open.

Lita was a foot or two away, leaning nonchalantly against the cinderblock wall, both thumbs in her belt loops. There was nothing in her expression but haughty derision. The red-haired Diva continued. "And I wonder, who the _hell_ is this bitch, and who let her into the _WWE_, let alone into the _ring_? And then I realize that it's _you_." She stopped, and her expression became almost expectant, as though she was waiting to see what Ashley would do.

In the midst of the rage that flooded her body, the Diva Search winner had the sense that Lita was trying to goad her into losing her cool, trying to get her to throw the first punch so that any physicality she inflicted on Ashley would be justified. The rookie Diva took a slow deep breath, hoping that she could keep her emotions in check for the duration of this confrontation. "Look, Lita," she began, pleasing that her voice only shook a little. "If you have some kind of problem with me, just say it."

Lita didn't move, didn't even blink at first. Gradually, her full lips curved upward in a smug tight smile. "What do you think I'm doing?" she replied, her own tone perfectly even and measured.

Ashley managed not to flinch. She'd walked right into that one. Instead, the Diva Search winner rolled her eyes, attempting to appear as unaffected by Lita's comments as possible. "You know what? I'd love to stay and continue this conversation, but I've got shit to do." She turned away to leave.

"Oh, so I hear," The Queen of Hardcore's voice grated on her ears like nails on a chalkboard. It took everything Ashley had not to turn around and drive the sole of her boot right into Lita's abdomen. Nevertheless, she started walking, forcing herself not to look back. The red-haired Diva wasn't finished, however. "_Speaking_ of shit to do…how's Matt?"

Ashley stopped, her chest tightening. Down at her side, one of her hands clenched into a fist. Slowly, she turned back around, making her countenance as neutral as possible. "What does it matter to you?" she asked, her tone light.

Lita shrugged, pushing her slender body off the wall. "No reason…I just want to make sure that Matt's got someone to keep him company at night…" She moved toward the rookie Diva, her movements liquid. "Apparently, that task has fallen to you."

Ashley knew that she was treading in dangerous waters, but she didn't care. All she wanted at this point was to knock that smug look off of Lita's face; even she paid for it afterward. The Diva Search winner planted one hand on her hip, fixing Lita with a sneer of her own. She felt a thrill of satisfaction course through her as the red-haired Diva's expression momentarily faltered. "What's the matter, Leets?" she asked, her voice mocking. "_Jealous_?" Without waiting to see the effect of her words, she turned away from the Queen of Hardcore, resuming her walk down the hall.

She didn't even hear the sound of footsteps; all she felt was Lita's fingernails digging into her upper arm, yanking her back around. The veteran Diva grabbed Ashley's chin between thumb and forefinger, shoving her effortlessly up against the wall. Lita thrust her face into Ashley's, and it wasn't the anger in it that terrified the Diva Search winner; it was the _detachment_. It dawned on her that Lita could tear her apart, and give it no more thought than doing her nails.

The red-haired Diva's voice was low, but the volume couldn't mask the venom lurking just under the surface. "Consider this your warning; talk to me like that again, and I'll make sure you spend the rest of your WWE career in a wheelchair." Ashley started to say something, then realized that at this stage, it might be wiser just to keep her mouth shut.

Lita, on the other hand, must have taken this as disbelief, because her next words out of her mouth were: "Oh, you don't think I'll do it? Huh? You just like everyone else? You think I'm a _slut_?" She spat the word out as though it was distasteful to her.

"I don't think you're a slut," Ashley managed to reply. Lita's grip made it hard to move her jaw. She stared back at the former Women's Champion, trying to look as innocent as she possibly could. "I just think that you've screwed half the locker room."

For one heartstopping second, she was sure that she had just crossed the line. Lita tightened her hold on Ashley's face, her fingernails digging in almost hard enough to draw blood. Then, unexpectedly, the Queen of Hardcore smiled. Unfortunately, it was not a nice smile.

"Oh, _you're _one to talk," she replied, her low voice almost a purr. She leaned closer to the rookie Diva. "Rumor has it that Matt's not the _only_ guy in the WWE that you're into…or rather, who's _into _ _you_."

"Funny, I thought we were talking about me, not you," Ashley shot back, chastising herself almost immediately. Apparently, her mouth hadn't finished making comments without her brain's approval. Once again, she was sure that she'd snapped the slender thread of Lita's patience, but once again, the red-haired Diva surprised her by keeping her cool.

Lita's voice was just above a whisper; all of the smugness had evaporated from her tone, leaving only contempt. "I'd watch that mouth of yours if I were you. One of these days, it's going to get you into trouble, and not even your new best friend Trish may be able to help you." She abruptly released her grip on Ashley, stepping back. Her eyes never left the rookie Diva. "I'll see you around." Flipping her long hair over her shoulder, she turned away, striding down the hall and out of sight around the corner.

Ashley remained where she was for a second or two , her mind running over what Lita had said. Not the threat, but what had preceded it:

_Rumor has it that Matt's not the only guy that you're into…_

The Diva Search winner pushed herself off the wall, massaging her bruised jaw with one hand. The question was: how much of Lita's accusations had been the truth? Ashley didn't know, and that not-knowing unnerved her, because she was pretty sure the Queen of Hardcore wasn't finished with her yet.

* * *

Trish had already returned to the locker room and changed out of her wrestling gear by the time Ashley got back. The Women's Champion was sitting on a bench in front of the monitor, Maria next to her. The two of them turned and smiled at the rookie Diva as she entered.

"Where've you been?" Trish exclaimed. "The Wicked Witches already left; luckily, 'Ria was here so I didn't have to sing 'The Goodbye Song' by myself."

Ashley forced a grin of her own, even though she really didn't feel like smiling. "I was in the bathroom," This was technically the truth; after her encounter with Lita, the Diva Search winner had had to splash some water on her face and assess the damage to her jaw. There were two marks, one on either side of her chin, that were already starting to bruise. Hopefully, neither Trish or Maria would notice them.

"What, did you fall in?" Trish was apparently not going to let this go. The Canadian beauty gestured excitedly at the monitor. "Get over here; Matt's match is starting!"

Ashley had turned toward her cubbyhole, grabbing an elastic band out of her makeup bag and pulling her hair back into a ponytail. At the mention of Matt's name, however, she whirled around. Snatching a zip-up sweatshirt from her suitcase, she threw it on over her ring attire and bounded over to the bench, slipping down next to Trish.

On the screen, Edge had just entered the cage, the referee on the outside shutting the door behind him. The camera cut to a shot of Lita, fingers curled around the links of the cage, offering her new boyfriend a smile of encouragement. At the sight of the redhead, Ashley felt her heart plummet into her stomach. The bruises on either side of her chin suddenly began to throb.

She looked over at Trish, and noted with some surprise that the Women's Champion looked sad, almost regretful. Ashley remembered something that Maria had told her once; that Trish and Lita had been really good friends until they'd had a falling-out about a year or so ago. No one really knew the details; only that it had ended with Lita breaking Trish's nose. Ashley had had some friendships go sour, but none as bad as that, and she wondered if that falling-out had anything to do with why Trish was so protective of Matt.

Her internal musings were soon forgotten as she became caught up in the action of the match. Unlike their bout at SummerSlam, this one could not be stopped because of injury, and as time elapsed, the hatred between the two men became more and more apparent as they doggedly hammered away at one another. The three Divas began cheering, their encouragement just as loud and enthusiastic as that of the fans surrounding the ring.

When Lita entered the cage to break up the three-count and Matt hit her with a Twist of Fate, Maria shrieked, covering her eyes with her hands. Trish cringed. Ashley, who could still recall the venomous hiss of Lita's voice, felt only a dull satisfaction. When Matt climbed up the cage and hit a leg drop on Edge from the top for the pin, however, Ashley screamed just as loud as Maria, clapping both hands over her mouth and jumping to her feet. Before his music had even hit, she was already halfway to the door. She was just reaching for the handle when she stopped, wondering what exactly she was doing.

She turned back toward her friends and saw that both Maria and Trish were staring at her expectantly. "Well?" Trish asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Well, what?" Ashley answered, although she was pretty sure that she already knew the answer.

Trish pointed toward the door. "Go out there and congratulate him!"

"Are you sure?" Ashley pressed, well aware that she was just making excuses. "It won't be weird or anything—"

The Women's Champion rolled her eyes at this comment. "Okay, number one: the entire roster already knows that you're dating. Number two: Matt just won a huge match. Number three…" Her face lit up in a grin. "You were going to do it long before I said anything."

Ashley realized that she was right, but decided to press her buttons a little bit more. "I don't know…" she replied, sounding doubtful and biting her lip.

Trish let out an exasperated sigh. "For crying out—just frickin' _go_ before I drag your ass down to gorilla myself!"

Ashley grinned. "Just messing with ya!" She pulled open the door, turning back toward her friends as she exited. "Don't wait up for me!"

"We won't!" Trish and Maria both answered in perfect unison. As the door closed after the rookie Diva, Maria turned to the Women's Champion. "They are so adorable together!" she chirped. "And he really does like her; you can tell that just by the way he looks at her."

"Yeah, he does," Trish answered absently, glad that her back was to Maria so that the backstage reporter couldn't see her smile slowly fade.

_The problem is that Ashley's heart might already belong to someone else…_her mind finished silently.

* * *

The rookie Diva ran down the hall, dodging bodies with graceful ease. By the time she got to gorilla, the small space was crowded with other Superstars. Ashley recognized a few of them—Big Show, Shawn Michaels, the WWE Champion John Cena—and hung back, uncertain as to whether or not she should intrude. At this moment, it didn't matter that she had won a match; right now, she was just the new girl, trying to work up the courage to approach the popular boy.

Cena glanced over, his gaze falling on the Diva Search winner. Instantly, his face lit up and he turned back toward the center of the mass of people. "Hey, Matt!" he called. "There's someone here to see you." His smile turned devilish. "It's a _gir-rl_!"

"Ash?" The rookie Diva saw people being shoved left and right, and then Matt emerged from the crowd, his face sweaty, his curly black hair falling in his eyes. As soon as he spotted her, he moved toward her, reaching out to take her hand.

"Matt, I just wanted to say congra—" That was all Ashley got out before Matt grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her into a kiss. The Diva Search winner stiffened, but only for a heartbeat before she pressed her body against his and kissed him back. Matt's lips moved over hers skillfully, his tongue sliding over her lower lip into her mouth. Ashley rested her hands on either side of his face, feeling his sweat and the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips.

Behind them, the group of Superstars watched in silence, occasionally shooting each other uncomfortable looks. The WWE Champion leaned over toward the Heartbreak Kid. "Should we be…_watching_…this?" he asked in a loud whisper. "I mean, should someone _say_ something?"

"Give it a second," Shawn replied in the same stage whisper. "They'll realize we're still here eventually."

Cena shrugged. "Guess this answers _that_ question."

The Heartbreak Kid glanced over, raising both eyebrows. "And that is?"

The WWE Champion shrugged a second time. "Whether or not he's finally over Lita." They both turned back toward the embracing couple.

Ashley finally pulled away, still holding Matt's face in her hands. "I guess you're happy to see me," she joked.

Matt reached up to cup her face in his hands, his touch light, but still burning against her skin. "You guessed right." He pulled back a little more, so he could look into her eyes. "I just want to say…thank you…for being there…for me."

The corners of Ashley's mouth turned upward in a smile. "I'll always be here for you, Matt," she replied, and as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew that she meant them. As she leaned toward him again, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and a weird feeling came over her. She looked behind her, frowning.

The hallway wasn't empty, but the only people there were crew members and technicians, nothing out of the ordinary. The rookie Diva's eyes traveled over the scene, her expression still puzzled. For a second, she'd thought that—but that was impossible. Not here, not now.

"Ash?" Matt's voice sounded concerned. "Ash, what's wrong?"

The Diva Search winner didn't answer at first. After a few seconds, she turned back toward him. "Nothing," she finally said. "I just had the weirdest feeling—it doesn't matter." She smiled, hoping that by doing so, she could effectively bury her uncertainty. "So…where were we?"

* * *

By now, the Raw backstage crew was used to seeing SmackDown Superstars at their pay-per-views, so no one gave Randy Orton a second glance as he trudged down the hall. The Legend Killer had a zip-up sweatshirt and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes; this was in the hopes of remaining as incognito as possible. Not that he was ashamed to be here or worried that word might get back to Teddy Long, but because he didn't want Ashley finding out he was here before he had a chance to surprise her in person. But now, after what he had just witnessed—

Randy closed his eyes, trying to banish the memory of the rookie Diva kissing Matt Hardy. It wasn't like she hadn't given him fair warning: he'd seen her with Matt at the show last week, she'd told him herself that she had a boyfriend—so why did seeing the two of them together come as such a shock? Why did he feel as though he had just been punched in the gut?

_Because deep down, you think that she feels the same way as you…_his inner voice droned. _You think that, even though you've acted like a complete ass, she's still going to wait around for you_…_Well, she just proved you wrong…_

The Legend Killer pressed his hand to his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Batista had asked him why the hell he was doing this, why he was wasting so much effort on one girl. Randy hadn't answered the question, not only because Dave was being an asshole, but because he really didn't _have_ an answer. He couldn't explain his attraction to the Diva Search winner any more than he could explain the meaning of life. He didn't know why she was different from any of the other women he had ever had in his life; all he knew was that she was _different_, period. And it wasn't because of her hair, or her piercings, or anything stupid like that. It was because being around her was the one thing in his currently fucked-up life that made sense.

_You're playing with fire_…Now the voice sounded suspiciously like the Animal. _Once he finds out about her…_ Randy smiled bitterly. Well, he wasn't going to find out _now_, was he? Because as far as he and Ashley Massaro were concerned, Ashley had made her decision…and her decision didn't include the Legend Killer. He had come to Unforgiven expecting to be forgiven…that thought alone almost made him laugh.

Randy stopped and lifted up his other hand. He carefully studied the long-stemmed rose clenched in his fist, its petals a vivid magenta. The Legend Killer smiled again, and this time, it was sad. He had thought that that color suited Ashley more than the tradition white or red. He'd been looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when he presented the flower to her—and now he would never know.

Randy's smile vanished, his face closing down into the cold merciless expression of the Legend Killer. He slowly closed his hand around the rose's delicate petals, crushing them in his fists. A stray thorn pierced his skin, but he didn't let go, didn't release his grip on the rose…because it felt like someone was doing the same thing to his heart.

Served him right, for thinking he could just show up after the way he had acted and expect everything to be all right again. The Legend Killer opened his fist, letting the now-mangled rose drop to the floor. "Fuck this," he muttered to himself. Pulling his hat down a little further, he stalked off down the hall in the direction of the parking garage.

Randy was so preoccupied with his own thoughts, he never saw the gold-clad figure sidling down the hall just a few yards behind him. Torrie Wilson knelt down, daintily plucking the discarded rose off the floor. With her other hand, she tugged free the card, attached to the stem by a light pink ribbon. The blond Diva flipped it open, her azure irises scanning the words printed on its surface. She read them a second, then a third time. Slowly, her mouth curled into a smile; a chilling devious smile. "Oh my God," she whispered incredulously. "Wait'll Candice sees _this_—" She glanced over her shoulder, reassured herself that she was not being observed, then turned back to the scrap of paper in her hand. "Ashley, you little whore," she whispered, her voice a mixture of dislike and excitement. "You thought you could hide this from us?" Her fingers closed around the card like claws.

"Payback, Ash, is just you—_a bitch_."


	17. Chapter 17: Difficult Choices

**A/N: Aaah! Sorry about the wait; I was stressing out so much about this chapter that I spent a lot of time tweaking it. But it's finished and it's here, so hopefully enjoy!**

**Thank you to **Writinglove101, Jemima Flute, xAttitudex, Rossi's Lil Devil, .CMPunkluver, Ashleymassarophan1, Medieval Mystic, **and** rory21 **for reviewing the last chapter! You are all so, so awesome!**

* * *

Chapter 17: Difficult Choices

Ashley stumbled, uttering a stifled shriek as she fell toward the carpeted floor. Luckily, Matt was there to grab her arm so that she landed on one knee as opposed to her face. The rookie Diva looked up at him gratefully, unable to hold back a snort of laughter as she did so. Matt joined her, an amused grin spreading across his face.

The Diva Search winner waved her free hand in front of her face as she struggled to regain control of herself. "I'm not drunk!" she managed to exclaim through her giggles. "I swear—I _swear_ I'm not drunk!"

"Are you sure?" Matt teased as he helped her back to her feet. "You were really slamming back those shots at the bar tonight."

"Yeah, but I distinctly remember telling you to cut me off before I made an ass out of myself," Ashley replied. She turned toward Matt, reaching out with both hands to grasp his upper arms for support. "So if for some reason I _am _drunk…it's all your fault."

"Hmm…" the elder Hardy murmured. He gently pushed back a loose tendril of blonde hair from Ashley's face, his fingertips brushing her cheek. "My fault, huh?" He leaned closer, his lips almost touching hers, his breath caressing her. "Well, what can I do, then, to make it up to you?..." Moving even nearer, he captured her mouth with his, sliding his hands down to her waist to pull her against him.

The two of them had just returned from a nearby bar where, along with Trish, Maria, and several of the other Raw Superstars, they had been celebrating their collective success at Unforgiven. After her hard-fought tag match earlier that evening, though, Ashley's body was crying out for rest. Since she and Matt were staying at the same hotel, she had asked him if he could take her back. It didn't take much coaxing on her part; apparently, the cage match had taken more out of him than he cared to admit.

Ashley wasn't drunk, but she had consumed enough alcohol to infuse her head with a sense of pleasant oblivion. For once, all the concerns of her life—Candice, Torrie, Randy, the weird incidents—ceased to matter, and the only thing that really mattered was the cute guy kissing her right now.

She finally pulled back, resting her forehead against Matt's as she tried to catch her breath. "Wow…" was all she was able to say.

Matt cupped her face in his hands, the heat of his body seeping into hers. His voice was low as he spoke. "My room's right here…do you want to come in for a little bit?"

Even though he couldn't see the gesture, Ashley raised one eyebrow. "Won't your roommates mind me being there?"

Matt chuckled. "My _roommates _are still back at the bar hitting on your friends. Didn't you see poor Helms trying to get Maria's attention?"

The Diva Search winner giggled. "How could I not? He was doing everything except humping her leg. And the worst part was…Maria didn't even notice because she was too busy hanging all over John Cena!"

Matt shook his head. "What can I say? Some people just need to stay away from tequila." He slid his hands down to her neck, placing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "So how about it? Can I talk you into hanging out with me just a little bit longer?"

Ashley smiled. "Well, since you asked _so nicely_…" She let the thought trail off. Matt stepped back, bringing his arm down to encircle her shoulders and pull her against his side as they strolled the few remaining feet to his hotel room. The Raw Superstar dug in his pants pocket for his key card, and extricating it, unlocked the door and pushed it open. Drawing back from Ashley, he made a little bow and motioned for her to step inside.

The rookie Diva moved into the room, hearing the door shut behind her. The lamp on the nightstand was switched on, allowing her to see the clothes and other personal items that were already littering the floor. She turned back toward Matt. "Geez, the three of you are worse than girls—"

For the second time that evening, she was unable to finish her sentence, as Matt strode toward her, pulling her into his embrace again and pressing his mouth against hers. Ashley was startled, but only for a moment, before she relinquished herself to him. Occasionally, one of them uttered a soft sigh or a moan as their kisses deepened, became more passionate.

Slowly, but persistently, Matt backed Ashley toward one of the beds. She sank down onto its edge, tilting her head up to meet his lips, then inched toward the center, reclining back onto the comforter. Matt followed her, covering her body with his own. His hands—which had rested decorously on her waist—now traveled upward, lingering on the soft curves of her body. A low groan of need escaped his throat.

Ashley moaned softly in reply, the sounds of Matt's desire arousing her just as much as the feeling of his hands on her body. She arched her head back slightly, and Matt slid his mouth along the line of her jaw back toward her ear. His tongue touched her earlobe and she couldn't repress a shiver. Matt moved lower, placing soft kisses on her neck. His hands were under her shirt now, moving upward with teasing slowness.

The Diva Search winner ran her hands down his back, pulling him tighter against her, luxuriating in the nearness of him. She closed her eyes—

--And out nowhere, the memory of Randy's tortured expression popped into her mind, the intensity and need burning in his blue eyes as he pushed her against the wall—

_You have absolutely no idea what goes through my head when I think of you…_

The recollection cut through the alcohol-induced fog enveloping her brain, and instantly, her instincts began screaming. Not telling her _why_, in so many words; only that this was wrong, _wrong_, _WRONG_.

With a startled gasp, Ashley pushed Matt off her, rolling out from under him. "Wait! Matt—I can't—" She broke off, struggling to organize her thoughts into some sort of coherent order. She was still partly drunk, and the sudden burst of mental adrenaline had done nothing except throw her emotions into a confused jumble. There was no reason, no logic—just the half-crazed notion that sleeping with Matt was the wrong decision.

Matt, in the meantime, was staring at her, his mouth hanging open, his face full of shock and hurt. "Ash? What's wrong? What is it?" His expression twisted into one of painful resignation and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. "It's me, isn't it?" He looked away from her, pounding his forehead with his palm. "God, I was so _stupid_—" he muttered to himself.

Just seeing his embarrassment and chagrin made Ashley's heart constrict painfully within her chest, and somehow, she managed to shift her mental gears, throwing her brain into drive even in the midst of all her emotional confusion. "Matt? _Matt_!" Unable to get his attention, she sat up, putting her hand on his cheek and forcing him to look at her. "It's not you, okay?" Matt still looked unconvinced, so she rushed on. "And it's not like I'm one of those girls with daddy issues who have all these hang-ups about sex; it's just that…" She hesitated, glancing down at the coverlet, focusing on the generic floral design. "I'm going to sound like an idiot just for _saying _it, but…" She looked back up into Matt's eyes again, a weak smile on her face. "I have a headache—and I think we _both_ need to get some sleep—_separately._"

For a few agonizing seconds, Matt's expression didn't change. Then, finally, it relaxed into a relieved smile. He chuckled softly, looking down and reaching over to take her hand gently in his. "You're right," he eventually replied. "You're right; it's just…" He paused, obviously searching for the right words. "We've both been through so much _crap_, and I thought that tonight…we could finally have something that all the assholes in our lives can't take away…this one moment in time where it was just you and me."

"Matt," Ashley moved closer, leaning in until the tip of her nose touched Matt's. "We _are_ gonna get our moment, okay? I promise." Her lips curved upward in another smile. "It's just not gonna be tonight…not unless you want me to fall asleep during the middle of it."

She heard Matt bite back a laugh. "I don't want you _that_ bad!" he replied, his voice teasing. Ashley joined him, and for a few seconds, they gave in to the hilarity of the moment. They gradually grew sober, their smiles fading. Matt sighed, the regret in it giving Ashley's heart another agonizing wrench. "Want an escort back to your room?"

The rookie Diva pulled back, kissing her boyfriend gently on the cheek. "That's sweet, but I'm right down the hall—I'm pretty sure I can make it back without getting jumped."

"Well, if you have any trouble—just yell and I'll come running," Matt answered. He lifted her hand up, pressing it to his lips.

Ashley giggled. "My knight in shining armor." she remarked. She and Matt both rose to their feet, and he led her to the door where they exchanged one last sweet lingering kiss before she stepped out into the hallway.

As soon as the door clicked shut softly behind her, the Diva Search winner's smile faded. Crossing both arms over her chest, she trudged down the hall in the direction of her room. The warm dulling blanket of intoxication had evaporated, leaving her at the mercy of her own thoughts and emotions which ripped through her with the icy keenness of a winter wind. Somehow, in the space of a few minutes, she had gone from making out with Matt Hardy to walking back to her room by herself…and she wasn't quite sure why.

_No_. That was a lie. She _knew_ why—she just couldn't admit it to herself, any more than she could admit it to Matt.

_Why don't you just come out and say it?..._that irritating little voice whispered coldly. _It wasn't because of a headache or because you were tired—you couldn't sleep with Matt because he isn't Randy. _

The rookie Diva put both hands over her ears, as though she could somehow block out the voice inside her head. "Shut up," she whispered fiercely to herself. "Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!" Tears of frustration stung her eyes and she stopped, pressing one hand to her forehand as she attempted not to cry. Last week, thoughts of Matt had stopped her from kissing Randy. Now, thoughts of the Legend Killer had ruined her intimate moment with the elder Hardy brother.

Ashley sagged against the wall, slowly sinking down into a sitting position. "Why is this _happening_ to me?" she groaned, tilting her head up to stare at the ceiling. How had everything become so complicated so quickly? When she had first come to the WWE, she hadn't expected to meet _anyone_, certainly not two completely different guys who—for opposing reasons—she couldn't stay away from. And now…now, here she was, sitting in a hotel hallway crying because she couldn't make up her mind.

_You have to make up your mind, and soon…_the little voice reminded her, its tone slightly condescending. _Because it's not just a matter of someone getting hurt anymore…if you don't decide, you're going to lose your mind. _

"You think I don't know that?" Ashley hissed under her breath. "It's just…argh!" She buried her face in her hands. "I don't want to hurt anybody…" she whispered, her voice cracking. But it was more than that. Making a decision would mean cutting one of those guys out of her life, and that was something she didn't think she was capable of doing.

Not even to Randy Orton, sometimes-douchebag that he was.

The Diva Search winner remained where she was for several minutes, hands covering her face, on the verge of crying, but refusing to surrender herself to the emotion. After a while, she looked up, staring straight ahead at nothing, tears brimming on her lower lashes, her expression stony.

She would go to SmackDown on Tuesday, and she would find out exactly what Randy wanted from her, and after that—as painful as it would be—she would come to some sort of closure regarding the men in her life.

Even as she thought it, however, Ashley knew that it would not be as simple as that.

* * *

"Here you go."

"Thanks," Ashley accepted the plastic bag of ice gratefully, holding it against the side of her face. She might have escaped Torrie's facebuster without a broken nose, but it still felt like someone had run over her head with soccer cleats.

Raw's Monday night broadcast from Wichita Falls was in progress, and already the rookie Diva had seen more action than she cared to. It had started out as a normal match-up; Trish facing Torrie in her first singles match since returning action. Naturally, Ashley had been in Trish's corner, while Candice and Victoria had been in Torrie's. The bout progressed as expected, with the brunette Divas providing as much outside interference as they could get away with without the referee noticing. That is, until Ashley put a stop to their meddling with a double clothesline. After that, a momentary lapse in attention on Torrie's part allowed the Women's Champion to roll her up for the three-count and the win.

It wasn't until Ashley climbed into the ring to celebrate her friend's victory that things went bad. Victoria and Candice snuck back into the ring after the bell had rung, and hit their rivals with a sneak attack. Trish—as a six time Women's Champion—was able to defend herself for a little bit, but the Diva Search winner unfortunately fell to the mercy of Candice and Torrie. She endured several kicks to the ribs and a chokehold, before suffering the aforementioned facebuster. Everything had gotten a little hazy after that, but she remembered hearing a second THUD—the sound of Trish falling victim to the Widow's Peak.

Back in the locker room, she and Trish changed back into their street clothes, exchanging very few words. She knew that the Women's Champion was disappointed; even though she had won the match, she had still ended up face-down on the canvas in the end. Ashley didn't blame her: she was disappointed in _herself_. After all the training Trish had put her through, she had still gotten beat up by someone as useless and whiny as Candice Michelle.

Ashley sighed. The problem was the goddamn numbers game. She and Trish were outnumbered, and with Ashley still learning the basics, the Women's Champion was the only one who could put up any sort of offense. Unless another Diva with wrestling skills stepped up to help them, the threat of future post- match beatdowns remained.

And allies like that didn't just appear out of nowhere.

The Diva Search winner caught a glimpse of motion at the corner of her vision and looked up to see Matt poke his head in the door. As soon as his eyes lighted on her, he grinned and eased his body into the room. "Hey, you," he remarked.

"Hey, yourself," Ashley replied, lowering the ice bag and smiling back at him. Matt walked over to her, bending down and kissing her lightly on the forehead. He glanced down at the icebag resting in her lap.

"Nice…is that the latest thing now?"

"What, this?" Ashley held up the plastic bag, pretending to model with it. "Haven't you heard? This is the hot new fashion accessory—plastic bags full of ice cubes."

Matt chuckled briefly, then grew sober as his eyes drifted back up to her face. "Sorry about the match."

The Diva Search winner shrugged. "It's no big deal. I knew last night was just too good to be true."

"Yeah…I know what you mean," Matt bit his lip, looking down again. He suddenly turned away from her toward the trainer, who was unobtrusively arranging first-aid items in the far corner of the room. "Hey, dude…could you give us a couple minutes?" The trainer glanced up, nodded, and exited the room without saying a word.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Matt turned back to Ashley. For the first time, the rookie Diva noticed an apprehensiveness to his expression. There was something about it that she didn't like; something which set off a nervous twinge in her stomach.

The elder Hardy cleared his throat, his eyes resting on her face, but not looking directly into hers. "Bischoff called me into his office a while ago, said he needed to talk to me." A small bitter smile appeared on his face. "_Apparently_, Adam was in there earlier, making a big stink about how I should be 'punished' for putting my hands on Lita last night." He spat out his ex's name like it was a dirty word.

Ashley made an incredulous noise in her throat. "Is he _serious_? I watched that match; Lita got what she fucking deserved—"

"Could I finish?" The abruptness of Matt's tone surprised the Diva Search winner, and she could only nod wordlessly in reply. The Raw Superstar continued. "Bischoff went on and on, talking about how we're making it harder for _him_ because we can't coexist, blah, blah, blah—long story short, he booked a match for the two of us at Raw's Homecoming in two weeks." He hesitated, still avoiding her eyes. Reaching over, he took her hand gently in his. "It's a ladder match—" Again, he paused, this time giving her hand a quick squeeze.

That small physical contact must have nerved him somehow, because his gaze finally traveled up to bore into hers. "The stipulation is…the loser leaves Raw."

Ashley felt as though someone had slapped her. That was the only way to describe the bolt of emotion that slammed into her when Matt uttered those last four words. She flinched slightly, all the color draining from her face. The rookie Diva sat there, her body as stiff as a statue's, as Matt went on. "And believe it or not…that's not the worst news." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "The worst part is—with Adam in the ring and Amy on the outside…Ash, I don't think I can win this match." His eyes anxiously scanned her face, searching for any outward response to this unwelcome bombshell.

The Diva Search winner couldn't talk at first; her throat had gone dry. After what felt like forever, she swallowed, almost grimacing from the discomfort. "What do you want me to say?" she managed to whisper, her voice teetering on the edge of emotion. "Huh? What could you _possibly _want me to say to something like that?"

Matt leaned back a little, perhaps sensing that the wave was about to crash. "Ash—"

It crashed. Tears poured from Ashley's eyes, streaming down her face and (probably) streaking her eye makeup. But she didn't care. "_Why_?" she exclaimed. "After all they've done to you—" She broke off the thought, looking away briefly and swiping at her eyes with the back of her free hand. "No…no, I won't let this happen." She met Matt's eyes again. "I'll come out there with you. I can take care of Lita—"

"No, you _can't_," Matt's tone was gentle, but forceful enough to make the rookie Diva pause. The elder Hardy sighed and gazed down at their clasped hands. "No offense, babe; I know you've been training hard, but Lita is a two-time Women's Champ. She's given _Trish_ a run for her money. Not only that—she rode with me and my brother for a long time. She knows ladders almost as well as I do. The moment you step out there, she's gonna tear you apart. And not because you're a threat…but because you mean something to me." He squeezed her hand again. "I'm not taking a chance on you getting hurt because of me."

"So…what?" Ashley shot back. She was still crying. "I'm just supposed to sit there and do _nothing_ while you lose your job?" She shook her head, her blond-and-black tresses flying. "No way. No _fucking_ _way_—"

"Ashley." Again, the quiet strength in Matt's tone made the Diva Search winner fall silent. "In terms of my job…after I met with Eric, I called Theodore Long, explained the situation to him…basically, if I get forced off of Raw, there's a spot waiting for me on SmackDown. Okay? It's not like I'm gonna be unemployed all over again."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ashley's voice quavered as she spoke. She had gotten the majority of her emotions back under control, but tears still ran freely down her cheeks. "Why would you come here and tell me something like this?"

Matt looked down, biting his lip again. Ashley realized that he, too, was trying to keep his feelings in check. He took her other hand, holding them in both of his. "Because I care about you…and because…if this plays out the way I think it will and I go to SmackDown…I want to know if we can still make this work."

Ashley blinked in surprise. "What?" she sputtered.

Matt glanced up, his eyes locking with hers. "Being a couple while on two different brands—it's the hardest thing in the world. A lot of relationships here end because someone gets traded to the other show. We'll probably hardly ever see each other—it'll be tough." He stopped, lifting her hands up to press them to his lips. "So if you think that it won't work, if there's someone else—"

"Why would there be someone else?" Ashley blurted out, but Matt continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"—anything, just tell me now, in this room. I won't judge you, I won't ask questions, I'll just walk away…if that's what you want me to do." He paused, and for a long moment, they stared into each other's eyes. Eventually, Matt went on. "But I'm kinda hoping…that won't be your answer." He let go of her hands, reaching up to hold her face. "See, I felt something the first time I saw you. I knew then that you were special. And I've lost so much this year…_I don't want to lose you, too_."

At this, Ashley had to look away. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, fresh tears spilling down her face. She heard Matt sigh, and with a reluctance that she could feel, pulled his hands back. "Think it over; take all the time you need." Rubber scraped against cement as he walked toward the door.

The rookie Diva's brain was on the verge of overloading, too much information and emotion swirling around. Images flashed across her closed lids like projections on a screen:

_Matt's blood-smeared face…_

_The heat of his skin beneath her fingertips…_

_The look that had passed between them in the trainer's room, this very room…_

And before she was consciously aware of it, she made her decision.

Ashley looked up sharply. "Matt!" The Raw Superstar ground to a halt, turning around slowly, his face filled with a hope that both touched her and turned her stomach. The Diva Search winner swallowed. "I don't need to think it over." She hesitated, but only for a moment. "We'll make it work. Somehow, we'll make it work." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Matt…_I don't want to lose you either_."

Without speaking, Matt crossed the distance between them, enveloping her in his arms. His lips brushed against her temple. "Thank you," she thought she heard him whisper. The elder Hardy pulled back, his expression growing tender as he took her in with his eyes. "God, I'm an asshole. Look, I made you cry and everything—I'm so sorry, babe."

Ashley waved the apology aside. "No, it wasn't you—okay, it _was_ you and yes, you were a little bit of an asshole, but I'll get over it." She wiped at her eyes with her fingertips. "I just…I need to process this. Could I just have a few minutes by myself?"

Matt nodded. "I understand. I've got a tag match to get ready for, anyway." He bent down, and kissed her gently on the lips. "I'll see you after the show, okay?"

Ashley couldn't answer; only nodded in response. She smiled at him as he turned and exited the trainer's room, but as soon as the door closed and he was out of her sight, her smile vanished and she broke down into soft sobs again.

There was a sudden vibrating sensation on her hip and the Diva Search winner almost screamed before she realized it was her cell phone. The last thing she wanted to do at this particular moment was answer the phone, but for some reason, she dug the cell out, not even glancing at the number before she flipped it open and held it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Ash?" She instantly recognized the deep voice. Ashley's breath caught in her throat and she had to struggle to breathe.

"_Randy_?"

"Ash? Ash, what's wrong?" Randy's tone had taken on a note of definite concern. "You sound like you're crying—"

The rookie Diva was barely aware of what she was saying until the words were pouring out of her mouth. "Randy, I can't go to SmackDown tomorrow," she blurted out.

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. When the Legend Killer finally spoke again, his voice sounded subdued. "Ashley, what—"

Once again, Ashley didn't give him a chance to finish. "It's not—it's not just tomorrow….I can't see you again. _Ever_." She heard the sharp intake of breath, and it felt like someone had stabbed her in the chest. But she didn't stop. She _couldn't_ stop. "I can't hurt him anymore—it's not fair to him. It's not fair—why should he leave because of what they did?"

"Ash, who are you talking about—"

"_Matt_!" The Diva Search winner practically screamed the word. "He could lose his _job_ in two weeks, all because that _bitch_ ex-girlfriend of his couldn't keep her fucking legs closed while he was gone! And he asked me…he asked me if we could make it work, and I said yes! He asked me and _I said yes_!"

"Ash—"

The rookie Diva uttered a little laugh, one that was bitter and bordering on manic. She was well aware that she was babbling. "He gave me a way out, did you know that? He asked if there was anyone else, and I looked at him, and I asked _why_ there would _possibly_ be _anyone_ else, and the whole time, I was lying, lying…because there is. There _is_ someone else."

Randy was quiet for a moment, perhaps thinking that she was going to interrupt him again. "Who?"

Ashley laughed harshly again. "Oh my God, don't you _get_ it? It's _you_! I haven't been able to get you out of my fucking mind since the first day I met you!" She paused, but only to take a big gulp of air. "I don't get you. You won't let me get close to you, but you won't stay away from me. I don't know if you like me…I don't even know if you _hate_ me…you just keep pushing me away and pulling me in and I don't know who the hell you are."

Her voice fell almost to a whisper; her lips were practically touching the speaker of the phone. "If you want me…if you care about me…just _tell_ me and I will be there tomorrow, I _swear_." She was almost begging now, and hated herself for doing so, but she had crossed the point of no return. There were no other options left. "Just tell me…tell me something…anything."

Another long pause on the other end of the phone. Then Randy's voice, hesitant: "I…I can't…_do_ that, Ash."

For a few heartbeats, Ashley sat there perfectly still, the cell phone still jammed against her ear. Finally, her lips moved, spitting out a whispered epithet: "Fuck you."

"Ashley, I—"

"No, _fuck you_!" Ashley screamed, jumping to her feet, and jabbing the "END" button with her thumb, she hurled the phone across the room. It hit the opposite wall and she heard the sound of cracking plastic. Sobbing, the rookie Diva sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face in her sleeve.

* * *

In one of the deserted hallways of an arena in Amarillo, Randy Orton let his arm drop to his side, his cell phone slipping from his numb fingers and landing on the floor. The Legend Killer didn't even notice; he seemed to be lost in his own little world.

Without warning, he spun around, punching the cinderblock wall behind him. "_Shit_!" he growled, but there was no pain in his voice, only anger and misery. "Shit, shit, _shit_!" Turning back around, he leaned against the wall, tilting his head up and squeezing his eyes closed. So much was going through his mind right now, so much that he wanted to say. So much that he _should_ have said.

When he had called Ashley, he hadn't been expecting anything. Seeing her with Matt Hardy the night before had been a wake-up call. But yet…there was a part of him that still dared to hope. The part of him that wouldn't let Ashley Massaro go, even though his common sense was screaming that it was the best thing for them both. And it was this part that, despite everything he had seen and heard, still believed that Ashley would come to SmackDown.

That's why he had called; to feed that hope. But what he had gotten was an enormous snowball of confused emotions, smacking him in the face. The things that Ashley had said…they had elated and saddened and scared him all at the same time. But yet, despite her rambling, he could understand. He could understand her confusion because that was how he felt every time he thought about her.

After what had happened with Stacy—the Legend Killer felt his hands clench into fists at the thought of his ex-girlfriend—he had thought that that was it, that his heart no longer had the capacity to care for anyone ever again. But then Ashley Massaro had literally placed herself in his path, and since then, he had been doubting his own convictions. Here was a girl that he never would have expected to fall for, that he was falling for. Falling for _hard_. And he couldn't tell her.

He couldn't tell her that the memory of her wearing his "R.K.O." t-shirt was the single most erotic thing he had ever seen. Or that, ever since their first encounter, his heart had belonged to her. He couldn't tell her _anything_—not as long as he had unfinished business.

Sound rushed past Randy's ears. It was like wind blowing, only without the wind; it was like a voice, only without the words. The Legend Killer's eyes snapped open, becoming hard and steely. He pushed himself off the wall, his gaze sweeping over his surrounding.

The hallway was just as it had been before: devoid of other people save him. But the hairs on the back of Randy's neck were standing at attention, and he knew instinctively that he was no longer alone.

The Legend Killer moved out into the center of the hallway, his ears straining to catch the slightest sound. "That you, old man?" he called out, his tone mocking. The sound of his voice echoed off the cinderblock walls, but there was no reply, no indication that Randy was talking to anyone except himself.

He moved a little further down, his senses still on high alert. Down toward the end of the corridor, some of the lights had gone out, throwing the space into darkness. It was toward this black void that the Legend Killer walked. His azure iris moved back and forth as he spoke. "You listening to my phone calls now? Huh? You getting off on that?" A few more steps brought him closer to the blackness. "You're wasting your time, did you know that?" He laughed, the sound of it just as bitter as Ashley's. "Like I'd ever fall for a girl like that. All those piercings…she's probably been tapped by every guy on the roster."

He stopped only a few inches from where the light ended and the darkness began. There was still no sound, no movement; yet the black void before him seem to inhale and exhale with a life all its own. Randy's cocky grin slowly evaporated, and wordlessly, he reached out, extending his hand toward the darkened space. He stopped, his fingertips grazing the invisible surface of the black void. Another tiny push, and they would slip through into the darkness—

The Legend Killer abruptly yanked his hand back. "This is stupid," he remarked loudly to the black space before him. There was no response; the void seemed to absorb the sound of his voice just like it absorbed the light around it. Randy moved back a step, then another. Turning on his heel, he whirled around and stormed away in the opposite direction.

Back toward where there was light and people…and not things that went bump in the night.

His lips moved silently, mouthing the words he could never voice aloud, mouthing the truth he hoped he had not inadvertently revealed: _You stay away from her…You hear me, 'Taker?...You stay away from her…_

From the darkened hallway behind him, there came a sound that could have almost been a laugh.


	18. Chapter 18: Preparing To Strike

**A/N: A word of warning; the spring semester just started, and it's looking to be pretty hairy. So this probably means that I won't be updating as much as I'd like. Don't worry, I won't abandon the story; updates will just take longer. Just bear with me, please!**

**This was one of those chapters that I wasn't feeling from beginning to end, and I really just wrote it to get to the next chapter. I don't know if I like, but hopefully, you will.**

**Thank you to **-Nero-Moore-, Ashleymassarophan1, Jemima Flute, Medieval Mystic, Writinglove101, rory21, xAttitudex, .CMPunkluver, **and **iluvmycena **for reviewing the last chapter! You are all very very awesome!**

**Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 18: Preparing To Strike

Trish fiddled with the straps of her black-and-pink corset top, tugging it up a little further. WWE Divas always had a fine line to walk between sexy and trashy, and with her title on the line against Victoria tonight, the last thing the Women's Champion needed to worry about was popping out of her top during the match.

The Canadian beauty clasped her hands together, stretching her arms over her head and arching her body first to the left, then to the right. "Hey, Ash!" she remarked, turning to the side. "Are you ready for…" Her voice trailed off when she saw her protégée straddling the bench a few feet away. Her eyes were downcast; her expression pensive. She seemed to be focused on her hands, which she kept twisting together in front of her.

Trish's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Ashley?" At the sound of her name, the rookie Diva glanced up in surprise, her eyes resuming their clarity when she saw the Women's Champion looking at her. She ducked her head guiltily.

"Sorry, Trish. Guess I just spaced out."

"I noticed," Trish answered dryly. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing a little as she peered at the Diva Search winner. "Are you feeling all right? You've seemed really down the past couple days."

Ashley looked off to the side, uttering a choked sound that might have been a laugh. "Yeah, well, I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"Matt?" There was no sarcasm in Trish's tone this time, only sympathy and some measure of understanding. The rookie Diva didn't say anything; just nodded. Trish slid down the bench, rotating her petite frame and adopting a similar posture as Ashley. She lowered her voice. "You can't beat yourself up about this. I mean, you don't know what's going to happen during that match."

"Yes, I do!" Ashley shot back, her tone at the same conspiratorial volume. "We _both_ know what's going to happen! As long as that bitch Lita's at ringside—"

The Women's Champion closed her eyes briefly, sighing. "Ash, don't do this to yourself—"

"It's not fair!" the Diva Search winner continued, as though Trish hadn't even spoken. "They just kept pushing him and pushing him and then they act surprised when he starts pushing back—"

"Ash, come on—" Trish began to say, but then Ashley looked back at her, and the fiery intensity burning in her eyes was enough to shock the Women's Champion into silence. When the rookie Diva spoke again, her voice was tightly controlled, barely masking the anger and the anguish simmering beneath the surface.

"I mean…when someone forces you into a corner…don't you have the right to fight back?"

Trish didn't know how to respond to this at first, and had just opened her mouth to formulate a reply when a new voice interrupted, causing both Divas to jump a little.

"Aw, what's wrong, Ashley? Crying because your has-been boyfriend is about to lose his job? _Again_?" The Women's Champion and the Diva Search winner looked up to see Candice sneering down at them, Torrie and Victoria flanking her on either side. The brunette Diva pretended to pout, wiping away imaginary tears with the tip of her middle finger. "I think that's the saddest thing I've ever heard."

Candice's pout vanished, her full lips curving back upward in a smirk. Her dark eyes shifted over to Trish. "I'd get used to it if I were you, Trish. After all, you're going to be feeling the same way when Vicky beats your ass tonight and becomes the _new _Women's Champion."

"Is that so?" Trish replied, the scorn practically oozing off of her voice. She brought her hands up to her face in mock fright. "Oh my God, I'm _so _scared!"

Candice either ignored the sarcasm or just missed it entirely. "Well, you _should_ be." She bent down, her face dangerously close to the Women's Champion's. Trish couldn't help but notice the few atrocious-looking platinum blond highlights streaking through her dark curls. "All it takes is one Widow's Peak, and we leave you the same way we left you last week—_flat on your back_."

"Oh, you mean just like how _you_ end up every night with every guy in the locker room?" Both Divas turned in surprise at the sound of Ashley's voice. The rookie Diva swung one leg over the bench, turning toward the evil trio. Any sadness in her eyes was gone now; in its place was a flinty calmness. Ashley continued, her gaze sweeping over Candice's short red dress, the hem of which barely reached the tops of her thigh-high stockings. "Nice dress. Is that what you wear when you're out working the street corner?"

"You little—" If Torrie and Victoria hadn't been there to grab her arms, Candice would have tackled the Diva Search winner. The brunette Diva struggled to free herself. "You better watch your mouth—"

"No, _you_ better watch _yours_!" Ashley retorted, rising to her feet and glaring at Candice. "I don't give a shit what you say about me, but if I hear you mention Matt again, I'm gonna break your fucking nose. Understand?" Her eyes shot over toward the door, then back to the dark-haired Diva in front of her. "Now, isn't there some guy you have to go blow before the show starts?"

Trish couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing. At this, Candice uttered a high-pitched shriek of rage and lunged toward the Women's Champion, and once again, was restrained by her two cohorts. "Bitch!" the brunette Diva screamed. "You won't be laughing after you lose your title tonight!"

"Ooh, I'm shaking!" Trish shot back. She rose to her feet, her eyes narrowing to tiny slits. "Now get the hell out of my face, skank."

The whole situation was dangerously close to breaking down into a fight, and would have done so if it wasn't for the unlikely intervention of Torrie. The Boise blond yanked on Candice's arm, pulling her away from Trish. "Come on, Candy," she coaxed. "She's _so_ not worth it." Her azure irises locked on Trish's, as hard and cold as polished gems. "We'll see _you two_ out in the ring," she added. With Victoria's help, she tugged the still-yowling Candice out the door into the hallway.

As soon as the door swung close, Trish let out her breath slowly. She turned toward Ashley. The rookie Diva was still rooted to the spot, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes fastened on the doorway. Trish moved closer, reaching out to grab her arm. "Ash?" she asked, concern creeping back into her voice.

As though coming out of a trance, the Diva Search winner blinked, then turned toward the Women's Champion. Trish glanced from her to the door, and then back again, the worry in her expression gradually transforming to admiration. "Where the hell did _that_ come from?"

Ashley shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "I don't know, I just…I've had so much on my mind this past week, and she was _really _pissing me off—" She pushed her hair back over her shoulder as she talked. "Sorry it got so tense."

"No, no, don't apologize," Trish answered. Her lips curved up into a grin. "In fact…just remember that if Candice decides to get hands-on during the match tonight."

Ashley smiled in return. "I _was_ pretty badass, wasn't I?" The two Divas burst into giggles.

As she laughed, though, Trish couldn't shake the memory of Torrie's gaze, or the look she had shot Ashley just before stepping out into the hall—the cold appraising look that a snake gives its prey just before it strikes.

* * *

Ashley crouched by the corner of the ring, slamming both hands down on the edge of the apron enthusiastically. "C'mon, Trish!" she yelled, her voice encouraging. "Get up!" Behind her, the Waco crowd picked up her rallying beat, increasing the tempo until it became a hum of claps and stomps.

Just outside the ring, Trish carefully picked herself up, shaking her head to clear away any dizziness. Bending down, she grabbed Victoria by the hair and arm, and hurled her under the bottom rope into the ring. Grasping the ropes, the Women's Champion pulled her body up onto the apron, preparing to launch herself back into the squared circle.

Just then, Ashley saw a flash of red dart forward. She opened her mouth to utter a warning, but it was too late: Candice grabbed Trish's ankle and pulled her off the apron. The Canadian beauty's chin bounced off the edge of the ring, and she crumpled into a prone heap.

Candice pointed at her handiwork, cackling with laughter. Torrie came up beside her and the two of them exchanged a high-five. Their malicious giggling reached Ashley's ears, and for a moment, everything in front of her went red. She stormed toward the pair, and grabbing a handful of each Diva's hair, slammed their heads together. Candice went down; Torrie didn't. The rookie Diva turned to the Boise blond, lashing out with a hard slap that sent Torrie flying. Whirling around toward Candice, she kicked her in the ankle, sweeping her legs out from under her and sending the brunette Diva back down onto her ass.

Ashley didn't waste any time; she moved back to Torrie, straddling her body, grabbing her long blond tresses and slamming her head against the ground. She wasn't aware of the match anymore; she wasn't even aware of the crowd. All she could think about were the insults and the pranks and the humiliation that had dogged her since Day One, and how it never stopped, _never stopped—_

Ashley felt two arms loop around her waist, hauling her off Torrie. It had to be Victoria; Trish wouldn't have tried to intervene. The rookie Diva struggled to extricate herself. "Get off me, _get off me_—" Then Victoria abruptly threw her onto the ground, forcing all the air out of her lungs, and for a while, speaking became impossible.

As Ashley lay there, trying to will breath back into her body, she thought about what she had said to Trish earlier about being backed into a corner. In that respect, she and Matt had always been alike. That was part of the reason they had always been so close: they both knew what it felt like to be an outcast. And now they were trying to force Matt off of Raw, trying to get rid of him because he refused to stay an outcast—

Maybe Ashley couldn't go after his tormentors, but she could certainly go after her own, and she could start by picking her ass up off of this security mat and getting her head back in this match.

Rolling over onto her stomach, the Diva Search winner pushed herself up to her hands and knees, then (using the ring post for support) to her feet. As soon as she was up, her head cleared and she felt that peculiar combination of emotional adrenaline slam into her body, erasing any remaining pain from her collision with the floor. She gripped the bottom rope with both hands, peering underneath it into the ring.

Trish nailed Victoria with a stiff boot to the gut, looping one arm around her neck in a side headlock. With the other, she pointed skyward, and the crowd exploded into excited cheers. Running toward the opposite side of the ring, Trish launched her feet up and used the ropes as a springboard. Pivoting in mid-air, she drove the Vicious Vixen into the canvas with the Stratusfaction. The Women's Champion rolled Victoria over and hooked her leg for the pin.

The referee had just counted two when Torrie and Candice simultaneously scrambled under the bottom rope into the ring, attacking Trish with their fists and feet. Instantly, the ref motioned for the bell, calling for the DQ.

Ashley felt a small rush of relief. Thanks to her own friends, Victoria would not be walking out of the arena with the Women's Championship tonight. The feeling quickly passed, however. Trish was still outnumbered two to one, and if Ashley didn't step in, the two of them could expect a repeat of last week. Sliding under the bottom rope, she ran toward the three figures, nailing Candice in the back of the head with her elbow. The brunette Diva dropped to her knees, whimpering.

Next to her, Torrie stood absolutely still, her mouth hanging open. Her temporary shock allowed Trish to sneak in a hard kick to the abdomen, and while the blond Diva was doubled over in pain, the Women's Champion grabbed her by the hair with both hands and tossed her toward the ropes. Torrie connected ungracefully with Victoria (who was still in the process of regaining her senses) and the pair sailed through the ropes and out onto the floor.

Ashley watched this with bemusement, then turned back to Candice. Reaching down and grasping two handfuls of dark hair, she lifted the other Diva up and then threw her face down onto the mat. Candice lay still; perhaps deciding that playing dead was the best alternative. She seemed to be completely unaware that her skirt had ridden up to her waist, exposing underwear that was usually seen on a high-class whore.

The rookie Diva reached down and delicately took the hem of Candice's dress between thumb and forefinger. She looked back up at Trish, and in that moment, the same notion passed between them. The Women's Champion nodded, her face lighting up in a wicked grin. Using both hands, Ashley took hold of Candice's dress, tugging it over her head and completely off her body. Straightening up, she twirled it around over her head like a rally towel. Trish jogged across the ring, coming over to sling a companionable arm around Ashley's shoulders.

The Diva Search winner glanced down again, her expression full of a satisfied glee. With the toe of her boot, she nudged Candice's shoulder. The brunette Diva stirred, then slowly got to her feet, one hand pressed to her head, making a big show out of being injured. As soon as she was upright, her gaze landed on Ashley. Instantly, her expression filled with hate and her slender fingers curled into claws.

Ashley tilted her head to the side, completely unperturbed by Candice's imminent temper tantrum. "Hey, Candy," she remarked lightly. "Missing something?"

For just a heartbeat or two, Candice's features creased with confusion, but then she saw the red garment draped over Ashley's shoulder. The brunette Diva's full lips trembled slightly, and she uttered a shrill wail, trying (unsuccessfully) to cover herself up with her hands. Looking right and left, but finding no recourse, she finally dropped down to the mat, rolling awkwardly out of the ring.

Torrie and Victoria had gotten back to their feet, and swarmed sympathetically around Candice, attempting to shield her lingerie-clad body as best they could. In the ring, Trish and Ashley watched the trio move clumsily to one side, then the other, with more than a little amusement.

Somehow, Candice had gotten hold of a mic, and now raised it to her mouth, trying to make herself heard over the jeers and boos from the fans. "I can't believe you _did_ this!" she shrieked, hysteria making her voice even more irritating than usual. "You—you little—you _humiliated _me in front of all—all—all these _people_!" The brunette Diva paused for breath. "I know it doesn't matter to _you_, Trish—'cause you're just a _slut_!" This last epithet was spat in the direction of the Women's Champion. Trish lifted one eyebrow, and put one hand to her ear as though daring Candice to repeat what she had just said.

But Candice was already turning toward Ashley, the fury in her face making her almost unrecognizable. "But _you_, Ashley…" For a moment, the rookie Diva wondered if Candice's head was going to spin completely around. "Have you ever been publicly embarrassed?" the brunette Diva continued. "The way you humiliated me tonight?"

_Oh, so the last month just didn't happen?_ Ashley thought to herself, feeling a small spark of anger. _Remember when you shoved a dog's ASS into my FACE?_ _Remember when you beat me down my first night on Raw? Remember all the petty shit you've done to me since the first day we were introduced?_

The brunette Diva wasn't finished, however. "You know what? Next week—we're gonna finish this _initiation_! Next week—the three of us…against the _two_ of _you_…in a _Bra and Panties match_!"

* * *

"I want her _gone_!" Candice screeched, pacing across the room. "You hear me? I want that little bitch _gone_!"

From their positions on the two twin beds, Torrie and Victoria listened to their friend's rant without speaking. Victoria nodded eagerly, while Torrie seemed to be lost in thought.

The brunette Diva continued. "It was so simple: we make that skank's life miserable, we show her that the WWE doesn't want trash like her. No one was supposed to stick up for her, no one was supposed to help her—so where the _hell_ did Trish Stratus come from? Huh?"

She looked toward the other two Divas, but didn't wait for an answer. "Now, all of a sudden, she's got a partner. Now, _all of a sudden_, the three of us can't beat down one useless Diva wannabe." She focused her gaze on the Vicious Vixen. "And do you know what she's doing right now? She's learning how to wrestle from the _Women's Champion_." Her expression turned scornful. "Pretty soon, it'll be _her_ beating you and not Trish Stratus—"

"Hey!" Victoria was on her feet, glaring at the brunette Diva. "Trish didn't beat me. In case you _forgot_, you and Tor got me _disqualified_!"

"Who cares about that?" Candice retorted. "Didn't you see what they _did_? They stripped me down to my _underwear_! Trish pretended to be a bull, while that _slut_ waved _my_ dress around like a red flag!"

Victoria moved closed, jamming her face right into Candice's. "Because of _you_, _I _lost the Women's Championship—" she growled. The two women eyed each other, neither one willing to back down.

"Shut up, both of you!" The brusque tone of Torrie's voice, so unlike her bubbly Diva persona, was enough to make the other two Divas fall silent. The two-time Playboy cover girl eased herself onto her knees, eying her two cohorts coolly. "Now, a lot of shit happened out there tonight, and things didn't go the way we planned."

"It was all her—" Victoria began, but Torrie raised her voice, talking over her.

"The reason _why_ doesn't really matter! But I think we can all agree that little Ashley Massaro has become a pain in all of our asses." She paused for a moment, her blue eyes sweeping over both of them. "So let's take care of her."

"How?" Candice interjected sarcastically. "By having another fuck-up in the ring like tonight?"

Torrie seemed unaffected by her friend's ire. "_No,_" she replied, her voice dripping with patience, as though she was dealing with a very small child. She stared hard at Candice, and whatever was in her expression wiped the cynicism off of the brunette Diva's face. Torrie continued, her tone calm and devoid of compassion. "We take her down a peg or two."

"How?" Victoria asked, her own voice filled with cautious curiosity.

Torrie leaned back a little, looking up toward the ceiling. "Let me tell you a story," she began. "When people first found out that Lita was cheating on Matt, what did they do?" She looked around again, but didn't wait for an answer. "They turned her into a _pariah_."

"A what?" Candice asked, but Torrie rushed on.

"That's why she doesn't change with us, that's why she doesn't hang out with any of us. The only reason none of us give her any shit for it is because she could kick all of our asses if she wanted to. Even yours, Vic," she added, shooting the Vicious Vixen a meaningful look. Victoria scowled, but said nothing. "_Ashley_, on the other hand—well, she's not so lucky. We all know that if Trish didn't have her back, we'd still be pounding Punky Brewster's face into the canvas right now."

"So…what?" Candice remarked. "What are you saying? That we should make it look like Ashley's cheating on Matt?" She let out an unladylike snort of laughter. "_Good luck_—everyone knows that those two losers are madly in love with each other."

Torrie's next words made her tense: "That's not what I found out."

Candice, who had been rolling her eyes upward, now looked back at the Boise blond. The derision slowly disappeared from her countenance. "What?" she asked as several long seconds had elapsed. "What did you find out?"

Torrie reached over, and snatched her purse off the nightstand. Opening it up and rooting around inside, she extracted a small pink card, a pink ribbon dangling from one corner. Holding it between index and middle finger, she extended it toward the brunette Diva. "Read."

Her expression wary, Candice crossed the distance between them and plucked the card from Torrie's hand. Flipping it open, she studied the words on the page. Her lips moved silently as she read, and she vocalized the last few words: "…just want you to know that _you have my heart_." Her voice faltered, and she glanced up sharply at Torrie. "What…where did you—"

"Read the name at the bottom," Torrie interrupted, a hint of steel lacing her tone.

Candice's dark eyes drifted back down to the paper, widening when they located the name in question. "Love, _Randy_." Her voice failed her once more and she looked up, first to Victoria, then back to Torrie. "You don't mean…this can't be—"

"It _is_." the two-time Playboy cover girl interjected forcefully. "That card—and the rose that it was attached to—were a gift from _Randy Orton_."

"But—but—" the brunette Diva sputtered. "That was just a stupid dare!"

"Apparently--" Victoria spoke for the first time. Her tone was thoughtful. "It's become a lot more than just a stupid dare."

"Exactly," Torrie agreed. Her azure eyes looked as though they had been carved from ice. "Can you _imagine_ what would happen if someone—oh, say, _Matt_—found out that Ashley was cheating on him? With the _Legend Killer_?" Her smile twisted, becoming a malevolent sneer. "He'd never forgive her—he'd make her life a living hell. And as for Trish—she never forgave Lita for cheating, what do you think she'd do to Ashley?"

The Boise blond looked at her two friends. "If word of this gets out, no one's going to want to have anything to do with Ashley Massaro ever again. She'll be left just the way we found her, just the way we _want _her—_alone_."

That last word seemed to hang in the air for a moment or two. The evil triad looked at each other, none of them saying anything. Finally, Candice broke the silence, her lips curving upward into a nasty smile.

"When do we start?"


	19. Chapter 19: Do You Love Him?

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Arrg, this week has been so hectic, with school and work and schedules that refuse to stay consistent. But here it is, so (hopefully) ENJOY!**

**Thank you to **xAttitudex, Writinglove101, Medieval Mystic, **and **Ashleymassarophan1 **for reviewing the last chapter! You are AWESOME! Peace!

* * *

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Chapter 19: Do You Love Him?

Ashley sat motionless in front of the monitor, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together under her chin. Only her eyes moved, following the digitized figures of the Rated R Superstar and her boyfriend as they battled it out in the ring. Part of Ashley was detached; she felt like she was watching a tape. It didn't seem possible that what she was seeing was actually taking place right now in another part of the arena. Another part of her was heartbroken, because deep down, she knew how this was going to end, how this _had_ to end.

The rookie Diva had never felt this miserable, this powerless, even when she had been at the mercy of the evil trio. Bumps and bruises heal, and even wounded pride scabs over after a while. But watching someone she cared about essentially get _fired_, knowing that she couldn't do anything to prevent it—_that_ was agonizing.

This match had hung over her and Matt's heads the last few days, and neither one of them had been immune to its presence. Matt tried to remain his usual warm, funny self, but Ashley could tell that the bout was weighing heavily on his mind, and that he was putting up this front to keep her from stressing out. When they had arrived at the American Airlines Center this evening, Matt hadn't said anything; only took one of her hands and pressed it to his lips. He had glanced at her, and Ashley almost wanted to burst into tears. It was as though some part, some facet of him, had already given up.

As for the Diva Search winner…she had spent the past weekend going through the motions of being a WWE Diva. She had the look, the attitude, the personality—but it was all a reflex action; a façade brought to the surface to keep the fans from seeing how depressed she was. Even the petty torments of Candice and Torrie failed to snap her out of her daze. It wasn't as though the Bitch Trio from Hell had ceased their attacks—Ashley was just too lost in her own thoughts to care.

_We'll make it work…somehow, we'll make it work…_But could they really? Would her and Matt's relationship be able to endure if she was on Raw and he was on SmackDown? They would barely see each other—and when they did, she'd also be in the same vicinity as the guy she wanted to avoid the most…

_Stop_…the rookie Diva commanded herself silently, closing her eyes. Randy Orton had no place here. Randy didn't care—and neither should she.

She felt someone take a seat beside her, and looked over to see the Women's Champion staring at her sympathetically. Trish glanced from her to the monitor, where Matt was pummeling his former best friend with a kendo stick. Her gaze moved back to Ashley. "You know," she began slowly. "There's still a chance that Matt could win this thing."

"You can quit trying to be so positive," the Diva Search winner retorted tersely, turning her attention back to the monitor. "This sucks, and you know it."

Trish held up both hands in a placating gesture. "You're right; forget I said anything." She paused for a moment. "Are you ready for our match tonight?"

"You mean, is my head going to be in the game so I don't screw it up for both of us?" Ashley shot back, her tone sarcastic. "Don't worry; I think even _I _can manage to rip off someone's top without too much difficulty."

"Look, I'm just trying to be nice," the Women's Champion replied, sounding annoyed.

Ashley looked back at her mentor, and her angry expression gradually faded. "You're right," she answered after a while. "I'm sorry; it's just—" There was a deafening roar of cheers from the monitor, and both Divas looked sharply toward the screen. In the ring, Matt had managed to climb the ladder and grab onto the briefcase—only there was no ladder anymore. The Raw Superstar dangled precariously from the black case. Underneath him, Edge grabbed hold of his swinging legs, pulling Matt off the briefcase. The elder Hardy brother fell, landing awkwardly on the ropes, his right arm snagging between the top and middle ones.

Instantly, Edge was on him, forcing his other arm back, pulling the ropes up and over so that both of Matt's arms were locked in place. The Raw Superstar struggled to free himself. Ashley saw a familiar flash of red at the bottom of the screen, and then Lita was up on the apron, latching her body onto Matt's, hooking her ankles around his left arm and her arms around his right, holding him even more firmly in place.

Ashley shot to her feet, a wave of anger crashing over her. She headed for the door, and would have made it if Trish hadn't been just as quick and grabbed her arm. The rookie Diva tried to squirm free of the Women's Champion's grasp. "Let me go!" she shrieked. "Let me go; I have to stop this! I have to help him—"

But Trish didn't let go, and when she looked at Ashley, her expression was almost sad. "You can't," the Women's Champion replied, her tone full of empathy. "Ash, you can't help him! It's too late."

Ashley shook her head vehemently, her blond and black tresses flying. "No," she whispered, her voice cracking. "No, I won't _let _it—" But even as she spoke, she heard the tinny _Ding Ding Ding_ of the ring bell, signaling that the match had ended. Ashley wrenched her arm free, shoving Trish aside to get a better view of the monitor.

In the ring, Matt still hung from the ropes, staring upward with an expression of utter defeat. At the top of the ladder, the Rated R Superstar gloated, hugging his briefcase to his chest with both hands. Next to the steel contraption, Lita tossed her brilliantly hued hair over her shoulder, gazing at her ex-boyfriend with smug satisfaction. The look on her face made Ashley's stomach turn, and the Diva Search winner swallowed hard, clenching her teeth so tightly that her jaw hurt. She could feel the emotion building up inside her, consolidating into an icy cold ball, threatening to burst through her chest and overwhelm her.

The rookie Diva spun around on her heel, making another break for the door. Once again, Trish tried to restrain her, but this time, Ashley was able to wrest herself free, grabbing onto the door handle. "Where're you going?" the Women's Champion exclaimed, her voice shrill.

Ashley froze for a moment, then looked back at her friend. Trish's eyes widened when she saw the emotionless countenance on the rookie Diva's face. "To find Lita," Ashley answered flatly. "Or Candice. Or Torrie. I'm going to find one of them—and I'm going to hurt them. I'm going to hurt them until they feel as bad as I do right now."

At this revelation, Trish actually moved back a step. "Ash, don't do this," she implored. "Trust me; I know what you're going through right now—"

"No, you don't," the Diva Search winner replied, her tone still chilly. "You don't have a _clue_ what I'm going through right now." With that, she wrenched open the door and stormed out into the hall, leaving behind a stunned Women's Champion.

* * *

Ashley was vaguely aware of certain sensations; the scrape of her boot soles against the concrete floor, the smoothness of her hair against her fingers as she combed it back from her face. But the only thing she really felt, the only thing she really cared about, was the mixture of fury and misery boiling inside her. The rookie Diva felt like she was burning alive, like smoke was rising off her skin, like the emotions within herself were ready to tear through her fragile skin and set her ablaze with their intensity.

Matt had warned that this was going to happen; in her gut, she _knew_ that it was going to happen—but now that it had actually occurred, she didn't want to accept it. She didn't want to face the fact that the only person who really understood her had just been kicked off of Raw for good.

Ashley hadn't been exaggerating when she said that she was going to hurt someone. God help whichever one of her enemies she encountered first—because when she was finished with them, they would be unrecognizable.

However, the first person she saw wasn't one of her enemies. In fact, it wasn't even a Diva. Matt Hardy walked in the middle of a group of four burly security personnel. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped in front of him; he looked like a condemned prisoner walking his last mile. And in a sense, he was…because he was no longer welcome on Raw.

The Diva Search winner screeched to a halt, almost tripping over her own feet in the process. All of the anger drained from her face, and she felt her heart constrict painfully within her chest. Ashley felt herself moving forward again, but had no sense of putting one foot in front of the other—her legs had gone completely numb. She could hear her own voice in her ears; it seemed to come from far away, even though she was shouting…"Wait! _Wait_! _Matt_!"

The five men stopped, turning to look in her direction. As soon as Matt saw Ashley running toward him, his face lit up in a smile. The sight of it was blocked, however, by the security guard who planted himself right in the rookie Diva's path. "Sorry, miss, but—" he began, but Ashley darted around him, still babbling.

"Wait! He's my boyfriend!" She reached Matt's side and stopped. "He's my boyfriend," she repeated, softer this time, her eyes locked on the elder Hardy brother.

Matt smiled again, but it was bittersweet. "Ash, I—" he started to say, but that was all he got out before Ashley grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him into a kiss. For a moment, the (now former) Raw Superstar was too stunned to respond, then he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him as he kissed her back.

For a few seconds, they clung together; then Ashley pulled back, still cupping his face in her hands. "Go back to your hotel room," she whispered. "After my match—I'll come and see you."

Matt must have picked up the implicit meaning behind her request, because she heard his sharp intake of breath. "Ash…are you sure?"

The Diva Search winner didn't speak at first, only nodded. "Yes," she eventually admitted. "Tonight…I want us to be where no one can _touch_ us…and where no one can take me away from you."

Matt stared at her for a moment, and then pulled her close again, his mouth brushing her ear. For a second, Ashley thought that he was speechless; then she heard him whisper: "Ash…I love you."

The rookie Diva gasped softly, squeezing her eyes shut. Her expression briefly twisted with pain. She opened her mouth to reply…but all that came out was: "I'll see you later." With that, she pulled back from Matt, stepping out of the group of security personnel.

Matt reached out toward her, his countenance just as miserable as she felt. For a moment, Ashley remembered the first time they had met, how he had reached out toward her then…She pressed her hand over her mouth, trying her hardest not to break down into tears.

"Come on, Matt," one of the security guards admonished, his voice firm but not unkind. "Let's go." The group started moving again. Matt walked backward, his gazed still fixed on the rookie Diva. "Ash!" he called out. "I'm sorry!"

_So am I_…Ashley thought to herself. _So am I…_ And then Matt was gone, moving around a corner and out of her sight. The Diva Search winner started to follow, but as soon as she took one step, all of the emotion she had been holding inside her burst free, and she broke down crying, sinking down toward the floor. She fell to one knee, crossing both hands over her abdomen as she wept.

Ashley didn't want to move, didn't want to think—but she was dimly aware that if she didn't find someplace slightly more secluded, she ran the risk of encountering someone she did not wish to encounter. The rookie Diva slowly picked herself up, staggering down the hallway, holding onto the wall with one hand for support.

After a few seconds, she stumbled onto a shallow alcove in the corridor, where some crew member had shoved an equipment crate (probably to alleviate the flow of traffic). The Diva Search winner heaved herself up onto it, drawing her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her arms. Her body shook with sobs. Ashley couldn't remember the last time she had cried this hard; she felt like she was on the verge of throwing up.

But this physical sensation (uncomfortable as it was) barely registered with her. All she could think about was the look on Matt's face as he walked away from her; how he had told her that he loved her, and she hadn't even been able to respond in kind—

She sensed movement in front of her, and even though she didn't look up, she knew instinctively that she was no longer alone. Ashley remained where she was; tensing when she felt a hand touch her knee—and then her heart plummeted into her stomach when she heard a voice speaking her name. A voice that—try as she might—she couldn't get out of her head. A voice that she had never expected to hear again.

"Ash…is that you?"

The rookie Diva lifted her head, her eyes locking onto those of the Legend Killer. Ashley choked back a sob, glaring at Randy. Her head was throbbing from so much crying, and just twisting her face into that expression was painful, but she still managed to do it. "What're _you_ doing here?" she demanded, trying to make her tone as accusing as possible.

Randy didn't answer her question; nor did he take his hand away from her leg. "I saw Matt's match," he said after a while. "For what it's worth…I'm sorry."

"Why do _you_ care?" Ashley retorted bitterly. "You're the _Legend Killer._" She almost spat up his moniker. The Diva Search winner straightened up a little, still glaring at Randy. "You don't know what it's like to watch someone you care about walk away…and not be able to stop it."

Randy looked down. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft that Ashley could barely make out his words. "Yes…I do."

The rookie Diva felt her glare falter. She tried to hold onto her anger, but it melted away from her. Why couldn't she stay mad at this man? Why—after all the confusion and the heartache he had put her through—did she still want to give him another chance? "Why are you here?" she managed to say. "Huh? Why do you keep torturing me? Why do you keep hurting me? Why do you keep _doing_ this to me when you know that it kills me, being around you?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you," Randy replied. His head was still bowed. "I'm not trying to torture you." He glanced up, and the need in his azure irises was so powerful that Ashley gasped. "I'm here…because I can't stay away." He reached up, touched her face, cupping her cheek in his hand. "No matter how hard I try…I can't stay away from you." the Legend Killer finished.

Ashley didn't reply; she was still too stunned by the quiet intensity resonating in Randy's deep voice. She closed her eyes, fresh tears rolling down her face. The Legend Killer moved closer, putting his other hand on her face, his thumb brushing her skin. "Don't cry," he whispered, and Ashley felt his breath caress her face. "Please, Ash…don't cry…" His lips touched her cheek, the corner of her mouth—and then his mouth was on hers, sealing her lips in a kiss.

The last time he had kissed her, Ashley had hesitated. Now, however, there was no such hesitation. The rookie Diva tilted her head up, leaning into the kiss as it intensified. Randy's tongue slid into her mouth, caressing hers. Barely aware that she was doing so, Ashley stretched out, straightening her legs, wrapping her arms around Randy's neck. The Legend Killer moved his hands from her face down to her waist, pulling her against him, wedging his body between her legs.

Ashley disentangled her arms from his neck, running her hands down Randy's chest. Beneath his shirt, she could feel the firmness of muscle, the heat from his skin almost burning her. She heard Randy utter a low growl of need, and he grabbed a handful of her long hair, gently tugging her head back and sliding his mouth down to her neck.

Ashley moaned, reaching up to grip the back of his neck. The feeling of Randy's mouth and tongue against her skin was intoxicating, and she didn't want it to stop. The Legend Killer moved downward, tugging aside her tank top and bra strap so that he could kiss her bare shoulder. He leaned into her; he was hard, aroused. The Diva Search winner closed her eyes, luxuriating in Randy's touch, his kisses, all her confusion driven away by the knowledge that _this_ was _right_, _this_ was how she was _supposed_ to feel—

_Ash…I love you…_

_Ash…I'm sorry_…

As Matt's last words echoed through her brain, the rookie Diva felt something within her wrench agonizingly. With a sob, she pushed Randy away, sliding down off the equipment crate and turning away from him. With numb fingers, she pulled her shoulder strap back up. "I can't do this," she heard herself say. "I _can't_…I don't want to hurt anybody."

"Ashley…" She felt Randy's hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away from his touch.

"No!" The Diva Search winner bowed her head, her golden hair falling across her face, shielding her from the world, but not from her conflicting emotions. Her lips moved, barely spitting the words out. "Tonight…before they took him out…Matt told me…he told me…that he loved me."

There was a long silence, and then Randy spoke again. "Do you love him?" His tone was quiet, but in those four words, Ashley could hear everything—everything that he would never allow himself to say to her.

The rookie Diva turned around slowly, bracing herself. Just seeing the pain and need etched across Randy's handsome features sent a bolt of agony through her heart. "I don't know," she admitted. "I thought I did…but now I don't anymore." Randy reached for her again, and Ashley backed away. "Please, Randy," she pleaded. "I need some time…to figure things out. And until I do…" She hesitated, feeling her throat begin to close, trying to prevent her from saying these last few words. "I need you to stay away from me."

As soon as she uttered that phrase, the Legend Killer flinched as though he'd been slapped. Ashley felt the blow as well, but she forced herself to continue. "Please…" she repeated, still retreating. "Just…just stay away."

"Ash—" But the rookie Diva was already fleeing, her blond and black hair streaming out behind her like a banner, leaving the Legend Killer with only the memory of her presence. Randy stood still, closing his eyes. Even though Ashley was gone, he could still smell her scent, could still taste her lips. He leaned down, pressing his hands against the equipment crate, all the while remembering the feeling of her slender body molded against his. And she had kissed him back—

Randy covered his face with his hands, blocking out the light, leaving him alone with his darkness. _Stay away_…she had said. That was precisely the same thing he had been telling himself since the day they had met. Too bad that had proved impossible. And with this kiss—he had passed the point of no return. There was no going back now; the only thing he could do now was hope and pray.

Hope that she felt the same way about him.

Pray that—God forbid—should the day ever come, he would be able to keep her safe from harm.

* * *

Matt Hardy paced the length of his deserted hotel room. If Helms were here, he would have joked that Matt was wearing out a path in the carpet. But the elder Hardy brother couldn't help it. He had _tried_ sitting still, _tried _watching television, _tried _reading a book. After five minutes or so, though, the restlessness would overtake him and he would spring back up, resuming his relentless trek back and forth across the room.

He was still angry about what had happened—who wouldn't be angry after being forced off your own brand by your _former_ best friend and _former_ girlfriend? But at the same time, he had reached a dull acceptance toward his fate. At least on SmackDown, he wouldn't have to put up with Edge's snide remarks or Lita's cockteasing or the bland looks of pity that the rest of the roster persisted in giving him. In fact, there was very little on Raw that he _would_ miss…namely, Ashley.

At the thought of the rookie Diva, Matt felt a surge of emotion. It had been for more than her sake that he had gone into this match—it had been for hers, too. Week after week, he had watched her go through the same sort of petty crap that he was subjected to, and each week, she had still picked herself off the canvas. She was a fighter, just like him. That's what he had seen the first time he had looked into her eyes. That, just like him, she would refuse to quit.

That, just like him, she _would not die_.

He'd realized after the first week that he was falling in love with her…and it had taken him this long to work up the courage to tell her. He hoped that his confession hadn't scared her; he hadn't stopped to wonder whether the feeling was mutual. More than anything, though, he hoped that it was; that the Diva Search winner harbored the same feelings for him.

He'd thought that his heart had died with Lita…but Ashley Massaro had brought it back to life.

The sound of something sliding against the carpet jarred Matt out of his reverie, and he stopped in mid-step, turning around. The other side of the room was just as it had been a moment ago…save for the small white envelope just in front of the door.

The elder Hardy brother walked over, kneeling down and picking up the envelope. He flipped it over. His name was written across the front in block letters; there was no return address. Matt frowned in bewilderment, and rising to his feet, moved to the door and opened it.

He stuck his head out into the hall, looking to the left. No one. He looked to the right. Still no one. Except for the elder Hardy brother, the corridor was deserted. Shaking his head, Matt stepped back into the room, letting the door close behind him.

He walked toward the bed, opening up the envelope. At first glance, it appeared to be empty, but a closer examination revealed a small pink card nestled in one corner. Matt extracted it, examining one side, then the other. It was the same size and shape as one of those cards you attach to a bouquet of flowers—but why was someone sending it to him? Matt flipped it open, and saw a message scrawled inside. The light was dim, so he moved closer to the nightstand lamp to see better.

His eyes scanned over the words, and he froze. His eyebrows came together in a frown. _This isn't possible_…he thought to himself. Quickly, he read the message again. The frown deepened. _This CAN'T be possible…_

The card slipped from Matt's numb fingers, fluttering down to the floor. The elder Hardy brother made no move to retrieve it, but continued to sit there, frozen in this moment of dawning awareness.

_This isn't happening_…_Oh, dear God, tell me that this isn't happening…_

_Ashley...why?...

* * *

  
_

A few feet down the hall, Candice Michelle pressed the button for the first floor with one slender finger. As the brass doors closed in front of her, she smiled cruelly. This had been too easy.

She had waited out in the parking garage for Matt to emerge, and then had tailed him back to his hotel. She had almost lost him at the elevators, but luckily, she had overheard him telling someone earlier that he was staying on the third floor...and he had been too wrapped up in his own defeat to notice her trailing subtly behind him. From that point, it had been a simple process of watching him enter his room, tiptoeing up the hall, sliding the note under the door, and then hightailing it behind a corner should he poke his head out. Her only regret was that she wouldn't get to see the look on the loser's face when he found the very special surprise inside.

The brunette Diva flipped open her clutch purse, pulling out a tube of lip gloss and using the polished surface of the elevator door as a mirror while she reapplied it to her full lips. Tonight…she and her friends would finally take care of that little bitch…and once Ashley went crying to Matt, she would find that the elder Hardy brother was no longer so sympathetic.

Candice examined her reflection, pouting her lips. As usual, the face staring back at her passed inspection. "Payback time, bitch," she whispered, as the doors opened up into the lobby.


	20. Chapter 20: Straying Down The Wrong Path

**A/N: WOW. This is one of those chapters where, after writing it, I feel emotionally exhausted. I hope you like it; now I need to go lie down.**

**Thank you to **ortonfanatic56, Jemima Flute, rory21 **and **xAttitudex **for reviewing the last chapter! You ROCK!

* * *

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Chapter 20: Straying Down The Wrong Path

Ashley trudged down the hall, her booted feet dragging along the concrete floor. Her blue-green eyes stared straight ahead dully, seeing without really seeing. Occasionally, a technician or a lower-card Superstar would hurry past her, nudging her aside with impatience. Whenever this happened, Ashley would stare after them stupidly with bovine-like bewilderment for a second or two before her thoughts would overwhelm her again, cutting her off from the rest of the world. The arena was bustling with light and noise, but it paled in comparison to the turmoil raging inside the rookie Diva's head.

Kissing Randy had been a mistake…but she didn't regret kissing him, either. The fact that she could harbor two such conflicting beliefs astounded her; the Diva Search winner had always considered herself to be a fairly straightforward individual. She'd always thought that she would be able to recognize temptation before she gave into it. Well, she _had_ recognized temptation—but that hadn't stopped her from giving in to the Legend Killer.

And the worst part of it was: given a second chance, she still would have kissed Randy. That was the kicker; knowing that she had done wrong, but still willing to repeat the sin. Even as Matt's face and voice had popped into her mind, her body had still been aching for Randy to continue, wanting him to strip away her clothes, push her up against the wall, and take her—

Ashley paused in mid-step, her face flushing at the less-than-innocent notions flitting through her brain, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. With an abrupt motion that momentarily shocked her, she brought her hand up and slapped herself across the face as hard as her reflexes would let her. Her cheek stung, and she focused on the pain, focused on it until her head began to clear. She should have known better; _anyone_ could have seen her and Randy together—Candice, Torrie, _Trish_, _anybody_. For all she knew, someone _had_ seen, and was contacting Matt right this minute, letting him know just what kinds of fun his new girlfriend had been getting up to right after he had been ejected from the arena.

This thought sent an icy sliver of fear through her stomach, and the rookie Diva finally felt the heat inside her start to fade. She didn't know all the details of Matt and Lita's breakup, only that it had been painful, ugly, and had left him not quite the same. It had driven him to a place where he was willing to dive off a stage; it had driven him to a place where he would hit a Diva with a Twist of Fate inside a steel cage. It had pushed him into a dark crevice inside his heart, and Ashley knew that it was only after he met her that he had started to venture out of it. She could not, _would not_, force Matt back into that darkness, not because she feared what might happen to her if she did—but because she would never forgive herself if she broke his heart a second time.

_It doesn't matter…_the little voice inside her whispered with malicious glee. _No matter who you choose, someone is still going to get hurt_…

As much as Ashley wanted to tell the voice to shove it, she couldn't refute its claim. If she chose Randy, it would break Matt's heart. If she stayed with Matt, it would break Randy's…and possibly her own. Because if that kiss had done one thing, it had made it painfully obvious that she was falling in love, and not with a Hardy…

The Diva Search winner felt her face crumple and she sagged against the wall, burying her head in her hands. Her shoulders moved up and down as she struggled to rein in her tears. After a few seconds, she sniffed, then pushed her hair back with both hands, looking up. She blinked rapidly, swiping under her eyes with her fingertips. _Enough of this bullshit_…she thought to herself. _I'm making a decision tonight…and if someone gets hurt…well, then, that's life_.

As soon as she silently voiced those words, she felt as though a cold metal clamp was compressing her insides. Ashley closed her eyes, unable to prevent a few more tears from rolling down her face. She gritted her teeth, refusing to give in to the anxiety, to the misery, and after several long moments, she was able to lift her eyelids and survey the scene around her.

There were no Superstars or Divas around; only crew members wearing headsets and armed with clipboards or coils of wire. They paid her no mind; to them, she was just another Diva. Ashley took a step forward, then another, her body slowly becoming accustomed to the routine of walking. She made her way back toward the locker room, her slender frame rigid with tension. She had no way to gauge her appearance, and didn't know which activity she looked like she had just finished doing—crying or making out. She could still taste Randy's mouth on her tongue, and she was sure that his kisses had burned into her skin like a brand, marking her, making it clear to the whole world that she was unfaithful.

She reached the door to the locker room, and paused, one hand resting just above the handle. The Diva Search winner didn't know who was in the locker room, and she prayed that it wasn't any of the evil trio. If Candice or Torrie happened to see her right now…it would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull, and with the storm that her emotions were in right now, it would not take her very long to crack under their tormenting.

_It's their fucking fault that I'm in this predicament!..._the rookie Diva thought suddenly, feeling a brief flash of anger. _If Torrie hadn't made that fucking dare, I never would have met him. I would have been happy with Matt…and I never would have known what I was missing…_

Fueled by this bright spark of ire, Ashley pushed the door open, moving into the room, trying to exude a confidence that she did not feel. To her relief, the changing area was deserted.

Or so she thought.

She had just reached the center of the room when she heard the sound of metal scrape against cement, followed by a familiar alto voice: "I knew you'd come back here eventually."

The Diva Search winner whirled around, her eyes instantly locking onto the red-headed form of Lita. Ashley did not think, was not even actually of any logical thought process taking place in her brain. She lunged at the Queen of Hardcore, arms outstretched, fingers curled into claws. "You _bitch_—" she growled. She was aware of her vision tunneling down around the other Diva, her rage tinting everything the same vivid color as Lita's hair…

Lita didn't raise her own arms to defend herself; her expression didn't even change. Instead, when Ashley came within range, she shot her hand out, planted it right in the center of the rookie Diva's chest, and pushed. Ashley went flying backward, landing ungracefully on her ass, the upper part of her back connecting painfully with the edge of a bench. She let out a sharp hiss of pain, but refused to cry. She had done enough crying tonight, and she certainly was not going to resume her weeping in front of Lita. She looked up at the other Diva, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, her blue-green eyes smoldering pools of hatred.

Lita met her gaze, her countenance unreadable. With the same hand, she pointed down at the Diva Search winner. "I don't have a lot of time, so I'm only saying this once—sit down and _shut up_."

As furious as Ashley was, there was something in Lita's tone that told her not to test boundaries with this directive. Swallowing her anger with difficulty, the rookie Diva pulled herself up off the floor, straddling one of the benches and sitting down. Down at her side, she dug her nails into her palm.

Either Lita hadn't know the extent of Ashley's resentment, or else she didn't consider the Diva Search winner enough of a threat to care. She swung her leg over a folding chair (the one she had been pulling back from the wall) and straddled it backward, her posture strikingly similar to Ashley's. Her brown eyes swept over the rookie Diva, and Ashley got the faint impression that she was being studied, like a specimen in a laboratory. Her response was to glare back at the Queen of Hardcore.

Lita's gaze locked onto hers again, and while her expression was still indiscernible, she lifted one eyebrow questioningly. "What're you glaring at _me_ for?" she asked, her tone dancing between amused and annoyed.

Ashley felt a fresh infusion of wrath, and had to grit her teeth to bite back the invectives that sprang to her lips. She clenched her fist tighter, feeling one of her fingernails pierce her palm. It stung, but the pain gave her something else to focus on while she struggled to maintain her control. When she was finally able to speak, she spat out the words in a terse collection of syllables: "_You know why_."

Lita rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "Oh, yeah, that's right. You hate me because I screwed Matt, and the usual blah-blah-blah." The nonchalance in her tone almost sent Ashley over the edge again, but she forced herself to stay still. Both because a fight with a former Women's Champion was not one she could hope to win…and because she had the vague idea that by giving in to her anger, she would also be giving Lita what she wanted.

The red-haired Diva was not finished, however, because her brown eyes fastened on Ashley once again. "I know you'll find this hard to believe…but I actually did you a favor."

Ashley laughed, a harsh mirthless bark. "_Did me a favor_?" she repeated, her voice incredulous. "You just cost Matt his job—_again_. How is that doing _anyone_ a favor?"

Lita waved this away with her hand. "Stop acting so self-righteous; we both know that Teddy Long has been dying to add Matt to the SmackDown roster."

"That's not the point!" Ashley interjected. "He shouldn't have to leave because _you_ fucked up!" Her tone became bitter. "Or because you fucked, period."

"Watch it." Lita's voice was quiet, but there was no masking the steel just below its surface. She pointed at the rookie Diva. "I _really_ don't want to make you lose your big Bra and Panties affair, but I'll do it if you don't zip that pierced lip of yours." Ashley snapped her mouth closed, but continued to glower at the former Women's Champion. Lita went on. "Now that he's going to SmackDown, maybe we'll finally get to see whether he really cares about you…or whether he's still trying to get over me."

Ashley shook her head slowly. "You are _unbelievable_," she managed to say, her tone incredulous. "You cheat on Matt, you cost him his job, you treat him like _shit_ week in and week out—and you think that, after all that, he's still not over you?" The Diva Search winner laughed again. "You _must_ have caught something from screwing all those guys because it's clearly spread to your brain. _What_ makes you think that Matt hasn't moved on?"

"_Because he's dating YOU_," Lita enunciated each word with a cold preciseness. She leaned forward, any remaining amusement vanishing. "And _you_…are far too much like me."

Ashley was barely aware that she was shaking her head. "No…I'm _nothing_ like _you_."

"Really?" Lita's expression hadn't altered, but that dry amusement had crept back into her voice. "Maybe you're more like me than you'd like to admit." The Queen of Hardcore finger-combed her vibrant locks back from her face, the movement so similar to what Ashley often did that the rookie Diva hesitated. For the first time since encountering Lita, she made a quick study of their collective appearance. The cutoff tops…the shorts and cargo pants (as opposed to a skirt)…the black streaks adorning Ashley's hair, the unnaturally reddish hue of Lita's…the piercing in Ashley's upper lip, the tattoo covering Lita's right shoulder…

Both of them were untraditional definitions of beauty—and both of them had long ago ceased to give a damn about what anyone else thought of them.

Lita sat back a little, apparently pleased by what she saw on Ashley's face. "See what I mean?" she remarked. "If you were some bimbo, like that chick Maria, I would have felt better. But you..you're too close for comfort."

"So what?" Ashley had difficulty finding her voice. "Why does it suddenly matter to you what kind of girl Matt wants to date?"

Lita looked back at her, and her expression softened somewhat, becoming almost wistful. "Because I want him to be happy," she replied softly. "And I don't want him to spend the rest of his life trying to hold onto the memory of me."

Ashley looked up at the ceiling, biting her lip. She gave her head a quick shake. "You know, you are a _piece of work_," she finally retorted after a long while. "Like you give a _damn_ about Matt's happiness…If you care about him so much, then why did you cheat on him? Huh?" The Diva Search winner rose to her feet. "Where was all this 'concern' for Matt's well-being when you were screwing his best friend?"

"_Sit down_," Lita's voice was low and dangerous, but Ashley had passed the point of caring. She moved toward the door, and was about to reach for the handle when she felt the other Diva's hand latch onto her wrist with vise-like strength. For a second, Ashley tensed, expecting Lita to pull a repeat of Unforgiven and push her against the wall. But the Queen of Hardcore remained in her seat, her eyes not even looking at Ashley anymore, but at some past memory that only she could see. When she spoke, the rookie Diva was shocked by the regret tingeing the edges of Lita's voice.

"Let me tell you a story…one day, you wake up and realize that the person you're meant to be with…isn't the person you're with. And once you realize that…it's up to you to decide how to take it from there." Lita swung her gaze back to Ashley. "That's what happened to me." Her countenance, so open before, now closed down somewhat. "I don't expect you to understand."

Ashley was seized by a burst of insight, a realization that maybe she _did_ understand—but Lita was speaking again, drowning out her thoughts.

"I'm not proud of what I did. I mean, I love Adam, but I wish that things hadn't played out the way they did with Matt. But no one understands that; not Adam, not the fans…and especially not Matt." The red-haired Diva rose to her feet, still holding onto Ashley's wrist. "So I go out there every week, and _yes_, I treat him like shit, because _that's_ what he expects of me. He thinks that I hate him; that the only reason I could have cheated on him is because I hate him. But I don't…"

Her voice trailed off for a second, then resumed its alto pitch. "I feel…_sorry_ for him, more than anything else. I fell with love with someone else, and I made a mistake, and _yes_, a lot of people got hurt because of that mistake, but it was _my_ mistake. And it wasn't because I hate him, it's just because…I fell in love…only not with him. Believe me, no one wants him to move on more than me, but every time I see him with you, I can't help but wonder if he's just using you as a substitute for me."

The Diva Search winner felt another surge of anger, but it was a dull sick sensation, a watered-down resentment. She couldn't dispute some of Lita's logic, and despite her better judgment, she did want to _believe_ the former Women's Champion, but yet—she couldn't help but wonder if this whole confrontation was just another form of revenge; if Lita was sowing doubts into her psyche to try and undermine her relationship with Matt.

As if Ashley didn't have enough doubts of her own.

The rookie Diva met Lita's eyes warily, turning her head to the left, then to the right. "I don't get you," she admitted after a few seconds had elapsed. "Why should I believe _anything_ that you say?"

"I'm just telling you the truth," the red-haired Diva shot back. "I'm not asking you to _believe_ anything—except for this," She moved closer, and Ashley got the distinct impression that Lita was trying to corner her. She swallowed hard, trying not to show any intimidation.

Lita continued, her tone assuming a dangerous edge. "_This_—you had better believe." She moved even nearer to the Diva Search winner. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I broke Matt's heart. I almost killed him. He didn't deserve what he got, but that's what happened. And I figure the least I can do to make it up to him is to make sure that it _never_ happens again." Her brown eyes were on Ashley's now, and there was no warmth in them anymore. There was nothing in her gaze except ice. "If you decide to do what I did, if you decide to 'fall in love' with someone else and screw around behind Matt's back…then you'll have to answer to me."

The Queen of Hardcore smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. "And you saw what Matt did to _me_, the lengths that he was willing to go to?" The rookie Diva nodded wordlessly. Lita brought her mouth down next to Ashley's. "Trust me, hon_…I won't be so nice_."

Lita pulled back, and the chilly malice she had exhibited only a moment ago was gone, replaced by her customary expression of haughty indifference. She let go of Ashley's wrist, reaching up to pat her cheek gently. "Good luck in your match tonight," And then she was gone, moving around the Diva Search winner and out the door with the silent, supple grace of a snake.

For a moment, Ashley remained frozen, her knees locked in place. Then, abruptly, her legs turned to jelly and she collapsed to the floor, grabbing onto the folding chair for support. Her pulse was thudding in her ears, drowning out everything—except the sound of Lita's voice.

_If you decide to do what I did…you'll have to answer to me…_

The rookie Diva staggered to her feet, stumbling across the room. She barely made it to the trash can before she threw up.

* * *

Lita sauntered down the hall, ignoring the glares from passing Superstars and Divas. She'd anticipated this kind of response; beside, she had spent the past seven months becoming inured to their hatred. It was funny, though; for all their petty animosity, they still treated her like a nonentity. They assumed that, just because they didn't talk to her, she wasn't aware of anything, when in fact she probably knew way more than any of them were comfortable with.

Like tonight, for example. She'd gone backstage just in time to see Ashley plant that goodbye kiss on Matt, right before security had hauled his ass out. She'd also been there to see Ashley run bawling into a dead-end hallway. And to see—of all people—Randy Orton enter said hallway a few seconds later.

Despite popular opinion, Lita was not quite the pariah everyone made her out to be; she did have a _few_ friends left, scattered across both brands. It was how she managed to stay up-to-date on everything that happened on SmackDown--how she'd found out a few weeks ago that Ashley Massaro had gone to the Friday night franchise…and had been seen in the company of the Legend Killer.

Lita didn't know what was going on between Ashley and Randy, but she had her suspicions…suspicions that had been somewhat confirmed by the rookie Diva's disheveled appearance back in the locker room. The red-haired Diva had had to hide evidence of her own make-out sessions enough times to know what to look for.

The Queen of Hardcore allowed herself to smile. Hopefully, she'd put enough of the fear of God into that little whore to discourage her from straying any further down the wrong path with the Legend Killer. Lita had meant what she said; both in her feelings for Matt and what she would do to anyone who trod on his heart again. She might not love Matt Hardy anymore, but she would be damned if she would let anyone else hurt him the way she had hurt him.

Lita was aware that there were some who would call her reasoning…unstable, to say the least; crazy, to say the most. But the former Women's Champion didn't really see it that way. After all, it wasn't like she was _blackmailing_ Ashley Massaro, was it? Ashley still had a choice—Lita had just been making sure that she made the _right_ choice.

And if she didn't…Lita's smile widened a little more.

Well, who would miss one rookie Diva?


	21. Chapter 21: Fool Him Twice

**A/N: Wow, after writing this, I'm starting to look forward to the 'Taker. For those of you who are wondering, don't worry, he's not gone. He'll be coming back soon, and with a VENGEANCE. But until then, well...I just have to beg your indulgence. Just for the record, this isn't my favorite chapter; I'm not sure that I like it yet. But I hope that you do, so enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **Souless666, Writinglove101, Keeyrah Alexandra, xAttitudex, **and **rory21 **for your reviews! You ROCK!

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Chapter 21: Fool Him Twice

The evil triad stumbled backstage, clad only in their bras and panties. Torrie protectively cradled her small dog, Chloe, in one arm, while Candice tried to wrap one of her discarded garments around her body like a towel (even though it would have been much easier to put it _on_.) Victoria made no attempt to cover herself up, and the look on her face was enough to send more timid crew members scurrying. Out in the arena, Trish's entrance music was still blasting; no doubt the Women's Champion and her new protégé were celebrating their victory in the Handicap Bra and Panties match.

The Vicious Vixen's scowl deepened. Without ceasing her stride, she turned around to face her two partners in crime, fixing her dark eyes on one, then the other. "Okay, _seriously_—_how_ did we lose that match?" she demanded. "There's _three_ of us, only _two_ of them—and one of them can't even wrestle! That little punk rock skank was botching spots left and right out there—and yet _somehow_, the three of us couldn't even strip her all the way down to her underwear!"

Victoria fastened her gaze on Torrie, eying the Boise Belle with something that could have been disgust. "I mean, come on, Tor—aren't B and P matches the _only _thing that you and Candy _did_ while you were over on SmackDown?"

Torrie, who had been cooing soothing nonsense into Chloe's furry ear, looked up sharply, glaring at the former Women's Champion. "Don't look at _me_!" the blond Diva snapped, her normal icy calm momentarily left by the wayside. Torrie Wilson was _pissed_. "Last time I checked, I lasted a _hell _of a lot longer than _you_ out there!" The two Divas stared each other down, neither one willing to relent or to admit culpability.

"Guys, guys!" Both Torrie and Victoria turned in surprise at the placating tone in Candice's voice. The Vicious Vixen briefly wondered if she was in Bizzaro-World. Candice never played the mediator; if anything, she was always the instigator, the first one to condemn or complain. Her high-pitched nasal whine should have been drowning out both of theirs, but the brunette Diva—though clearly upset—had remained strangely silent.

Candice stared mildly back at her two cronies, holding onto her makeshift clothing shield with one hand and tucking back a dark curl of hair with the other. "Don't worry about Little Miss Bitch," she added. "I took care of _her_."

"Oh, really?" Victoria interjected, crossing her arms over her chest. Her brown eyes narrowed to small slits. "And _how_, pray tell—because I'm pretty sure that's _your_ skirt she's waving around out there in the ring right now."

Candice didn't answer at first; only dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her pinky finger, as though checking to see if her makeup had sneered. Again, the Vicious Vixen was struck by how _calm_ she was; she could not remember the last time Candice had shown this kind of chilly serenity. The brunette Diva lifted her gaze, the neutrality of her expression a sharp contrast to the blazing malice in her eyes. "Remember that little insurance policy Torrie showed us last week?" she asked, her voice full of poisoned sweetness. Victoria nodded. Just behind her, the Boise Belle lifted her chin, comprehension already dawning in her azure irises.

Candice continued, her voice just as brittle as her voice; both providing scant camouflage for the demonic persona lurking just under the surface. "Well, I cashed it in tonight." A smirk appeared on her face, the upward curve of her mouth threatening to crack her fragile façade. "Let's just say that…our Ashley is going to get a _very_ nasty surprise when she goes to console that loser boyfriend of hers tonight."

What followed her words could have hardly been considered silence; there was too ambient noise, too much cheering, too many sounds of indistinct conversation. But for the three evil Divas, it might as well have been dead quiet as this notion sank into their minds, taking root and blossoming into full understanding. Torrie was the first to smile, lifting up Chloe and hugging her a little bit closer to her chest. Victoria followed next, her defensive posture relaxing.

They were not nice smiles.

* * *

Trish pulled up in front of the hotel, putting the car into park. She turned toward Ashley, twisting her body around in the seat. "Are you going to be all right?"

The rookie Diva had changed into jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt, her long black-streaked hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her head was bowed, and she stared at her lap, running the fingers of one hand over the palm of the other. Just looking at her sent an involuntary rush of sympathy through Trish's body, and her heart silently went out to the Diva Search winner. The Women's Champion was no stranger to heartache; she had had her own share of relationships, most of which had ended badly. But nothing like this. Nothing as tragic as this.

When she had found Ashley in the locker room, slumped over the trash bin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Trish had almost considered going to Eric Bischoff and forfeiting the match altogether. It would have bothered her in the end—not to mention giving those three harpies yet another reason to gloat—but Trish would have been willing to stomach it because it was painfully obvious that Ashley's heart wasn't in the match. And even though the rookie Diva insisted on competing…every one of her botched moves was a silent indicator to the Women's Champion that Ashley's mind was a million miles away.

Trish was about to reiterate her question when Ashley lifted her head, her movements like those of someone coming out of a trance. Her blue-green eyes locked onto Trish's, and the Canadian beauty was struck by the misery in her gaze; the vacant stare of one who is clearly suffering.

Trish impulsively reached out and grasped her upper arm, trying to convey to Ashley through touch that she wasn't alone. "Hey," she said softly, her tone concerned. "It's going to be okay, Ash." It was a statement this time instead of a question, and the Women's Champion almost winced at how empty her words sounded. She couldn't guarantee Matt and Ashley's relationship surviving any more than she could stop it from raining. "You'll get through this." More empty words, more false promises. Trish paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before uttering a statement that was neither empty nor meaningless: "He's in love with you, you know."

"_What_?" Awareness flooded back into Ashley's expression, her face flushing, her eyes assuming a look of…was it _fear_? Trish found her reaction odd, but didn't comment. The Diva Search winner had been in her own little world all evening; who knew what had been going through her mind when Trish had chosen to interrupt?

"Matt, I mean," the Canadian beauty continued. Unbeknownst to her, her eyebrows started to come together in a frown of puzzlement. "Anyone can see that he does—just in the way that he looks at you."

Ashley's face gradually resumed its normal color, and she dropped her gaze back down to her hands. "I know," she whispered, so quietly that Trish had to strain to hear her. "He told me … tonight … before they threw him out." Her fingers laced together in her lap, squeezing so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"And what about you?" Trish pressed. She felt horrible for grilling Ashley, when it was obvious that the rookie Diva was so emotionally fragile right now. But Ashley had been quiet all night, and Trish knew from personal experience that if she didn't release some of the emotion bottled up inside her, it would eat her alive. "I'm guessing, from the way you've been acting since he left—that the feeling's kind of mutual."

The Diva Search winner choked back a sound that could have almost been a laugh. "I guess you could call it that," she replied. Once again, her response seemed out of place, but Trish didn't get the chance to answer before Ashley's eyes flicked upward, the anguish in them silencing the Women's Champion. "I just…" She hesitated for a second or two before continuing. "I just don't want this to be the way it ends…you know?"

Trish didn't really understand, but she figured that agreement was the easier route at this point, so she merely nodded. Ashley glanced out through the windshield. "Sorry for being so spacy tonight; I think I'm still trying to wrap my head around what happened." She opened the passenger side door, planting both feet on the ground and easing her body out of the car.

_You THINK_?...Trish screamed silently, but kept her mouth shut. Ashley opened up the rear door, pulling her suitcase out of the back seat and setting it on the ground. "Don't worry about picking me up," the rookie Diva added. "Matt'll take me to the airport in the morning." She pulled up the suitcase handle, then put her hand on the edge of the door, preparing to slam it closed.

The Women's Champion suddenly felt that she couldn't leave it like this; that she had to say _something_ before she and Ashley parted ways for the week. "Good luck!" she blurted out, immediately wanting to kick herself for saying it. _Why didn't you just add "Break a leg!" while you were at it?_...she chastised herself.

The Diva Search winner only smiled, however; a brief upward tug at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah…" With that, she slammed the door closed, putting a barrier of steel and glass between her and the Women's Champion.

Trish watched her enter the hotel, noting with almost painful acuity the way her shoulders drooped, the way she seemed to be just putting one foot in front of the other. Even when the heel Divas had been at their absolute worst, she had never seen Ashley this depressed. She knew that Matt and the rookie Diva were close—the shared emotional intimacy that comes from being an outcast—but she had never thought that they were _that_ close; close enough to make Ashley break down so completely.

_Maybe that's because it's not Matt she's thinking about…_a little voice inside her head whispered. _Maybe it's someone else…_

Trish started to ask who that could possibly be, when she stopped. She already knew the answer to that question; Ashley had already _given_ her the answer to that question.

_I can't stop thinking about Randy's eyes…or the way it feels when he touches me…_

The Diva Search winner had been in the bathroom; she had missed the opening segment of Piper's Pit with special guest and hardcore legend Mick Foley. She hadn't seen, therefore, when Randy Orton and his Hall of Fame daddy had crashed the show, using the opportunity to put over their handicap match against the Undertaker on Sunday. Trish hadn't thought to mention it, and by the time Ashley returned, she had already forgotten it. She'd assumed that whatever had happened between Randy and the rookie Diva in the past, it was over now. Ashley had _promised _to end it.

But had she really?

Trish knew from experience that arenas—despite their size—were really not that big, and that somehow, you always managed to run into the person you wanted to see least. What were the odds that Ashley had run into him when she had fled the locker room?

What were the odds that, if she had, they had exchanged more than just words? What if Ashley _hadn't_ ended it like she promised? What if there was another man in her life…and his name happened to be Randy Orton?

The Women's Champion quickly shook her head, resisting the urge to smack herself. This wasn't like the whole fiasco with Lita, where Matt had been injured, and she and the red-haired Diva had barely been on speaking terms. If Ashley _was_ screwing around on Matt, especially with a creep like Randy, someone would have found out by now. And while Ashley might resemble Lita in personal style and attitude, the two Divas were nothing alike. Ashley wasn't like the Queen of Hardcore; she wasn't a cheater.

Besides, would she really have been stupid enough to hook up with the Legend Killer on her own show, where anyone—ranging from her closest friends to her worst enemies—could have seen her? Trish didn't think so, and admonished herself for entertaining such an idea in the first place.

But even as she banished the notion from her mind, it flitted to the farthest recesses of her subconscious, where it bided its time and waited for the future series of events that would cause it to flicker back into full awareness…

* * *

Ashley pushed the button for the third floor, glancing up toward the ceiling as the elevator doors closed. She felt calm, but it was merely a lull, the eye of the storm. Soon the waves of doubt and indecision would crash over her again, and this time, she wouldn't be able to escape them. This storm would not end until she made a decision—and like it or not, this decision was going to happen tonight.

_You had to know that it would come to this…_she told herself. _You had to know that sooner or later, you were going to have to choose between them…_ More than anything, though, she wanted to put off this moment of truth a little longer. Not because she wanted to continue dividing her heart in half—but because a divided heart was better than a broken one…and that's what was going to happen, no matter who she chose.

She knew that Matt loved her, and that she—probably—loved him back. But once she added Randy to the equation…_that_ was where it started getting complicated, because whatever she felt for Matt paled in comparison to the intensity of her feelings for the Legend Killer. Matt was her boyfriend—but Randy had her heart; tragically, it _was_ as simple as that.

But if she left Matt for the Legend Killer…there would be hell to pay, literally _and_ metaphorically. It wasn't just that Matt would never speak to her again; she could say goodbye to her friends, to whatever respect she had earned in the locker room—and hello to one red-headed Diva with a very large axe to grind.

_Trust me, hon…I won't be so nice…_

As soon as Lita's final words echoed through her mind, Ashley felt a strange mixture of anger and guilt. She shouldn't be making this decision just because Matt's psycho ex had suddenly appointed herself his protector. She shouldn't be making it because Trish didn't like Randy, or because Maria could never get close. This wasn't about anyone else—it was about her and Matt and Randy. More than that, it was about which one of them was better for _her_. And when she looked at it that way—Matt had always been there for her, while Randy was…debatable.

The elevator doors slid open with a nearly inaudible hiss, startling Ashley out of her reverie. The Diva Search winner stepped out into the hall, wheeling her suitcase behind her. She moved down the corridor, halting when she reached Matt's room. Lifting her hand up and curling it into a weak fist, she tentatively rapped on the door.

For several seconds, there was nothing. Ashley frowned and leaned closer, almost pressing her ear against the door as she strained to hear. As she did, the door abruptly swung open, and Ashley fell forward, nearly losing her balance and landing on her face. She caught herself just in time and looked up, smiling sheepishly. "Oops."

Her grin gradually faded when she saw the expression on Matt's face. There was no reciprocal smile, no welcome—he didn't even extend his hand to help her up. Instead, he regarded her coldly, as though he was mentally appraising her worth and found her to be lacking. There was nothing in his eyes—no, wait, that wasn't true. There was _something _in the back of his gaze; it looked like…hurt. Ashley felt her stomach clench, as though a giant hand was crushing it into powder.

After a long moment of this unbearable assessment, Matt stepped back, holding the door open for her. "Come in," No greeting, no "I missed you,"; just those two words uttered in a voice as icy and emotionless as his eyes. For the first time, the rookie Diva began to be afraid. Straightening up, she moved tentatively into the room, almost jumping when she heard the door click shut softly behind her.

The room was dim; a small lamp on the nightstand providing the only illumination. Ashley hadn't realized that Matt was beside her until she heard his voice in her ear: "Sit down." It wasn't a request; the command in his tone had been unmistakable. Ashley didn't ask questions; wordlessly, she sat down on the edge of the double bed. She was aware that she was twisting her hands together in her lap, and pinned them between her knees. She was pretty sure that now was not the time to appear nervous.

Matt moved into her line of sight, pacing back and forth in front of her. The weak light cast strange shadows across his face, and Ashley could see nothing of the man who had told her that he loved her only a few hours ago. The person in front of her—she had never seen this man before.

_No_. That wasn't true. She _had _seen this man before, once. Thank God, only once.

_Oh, I'm going to hell…but I'm not going alone…_

Now Ashley was definitely afraid. She sat there, rigid as stone, while Matt continued his pacing. He seemed to be trying to collect his thoughts into some coherency. The rookie Diva was about to open her mouth to ask what was wrong when Matt spoke. "So…when were you planning on telling me?"

Ashley was so shocked that she couldn't speak at first. Not because the question was so unexpected—but because she _had_ been expecting it. "What?" she eventually managed to sputter.

Matt continued as though she hadn't spoken. "Were you _ever_ planning on telling me—or were you just going to let me find out on my own, like last time?"

Ashley swallowed hard, her mouth had suddenly become bone-dry. It was a struggle just peeling her tongue off the roof of her mouth. "Matt," Her voice came out as little more than a squeak, and she hated herself for her weakness. "What are you talking abou—"

"_Don't_!" the elder Hardy brother snapped. He strode toward her, grabbing her upper arms and jamming his face into hers. Ashley gasped and shrank back, but didn't—_couldn't_—tear her eyes from his face. Matt stared at her for another long second, his dark irises scanning her face. "Don't…_lie_…to _me_," he finally said, almost spitting out the words. "Tell me the truth—you owe me that much."

Ashley wanted to cry, but couldn't. All of her emotional responses were frozen in the wake of Matt's rage. It had finally happened, the one thing she had wanted to avoid, the thing she had come up here hoping to prevent. Matt had found out. _Somehow, Matt had found out_.

The rookie Diva's lips moved, but no words came out, only a weak mewling sound. Her chest felt tight, almost unbearably so, and it was a struggle just forcing air in and out of her lungs. She was powerless to respond, trapped in this moment of incrimination. There would be no going back, not from this. "Matt, please," Someone on high must have taken pity on her, because she was able to regain her voice. "Listen to me, I—"

The elder Hardy brother cut her off again. "I just want you to know that you have my heart." The sincerity of the phrase was belied by the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Matt tilted his head to the side, still studying her, his anger slowly fading back to that chilly appraisal. "That's what the note said, didn't it?" He looked down, his breath escaping in a long sigh. "And to think, I'd actually convinced myself that you love me, that you feel the same way about me as I do about you…" He broke off the thought, looking back up at her. "I was so _stupid_—"

"What note?" Ashley interrupted, trying to keep her voice from trembling. She was terrified, she was on the verge of throwing up—but she had also just glimpsed a way out of her predicament. Randy had given her only a handful of things—and a note had never been among them. Certainly not one as emotionally open as the one Matt had just quoted to her.

Matt stared at for several seconds, and Ashley managed to meet his gaze without flinching. Eventually, the elder Hardy brother relinquished his grip, practically shoving her down as he stepped away from her. Digging into his back pocket, he extracted a folded piece of pink paper, which he ungraciously tossed in her direction. "Here," he snapped, the passion in his voice giving way once more to that robotic terseness.

Ashley caught the paper, keeping her eyes on Matt for a moment before turning her attention to it. The paper was actually a small card; its outer surface was blank. The Diva Search winner frowned a little and flipped it open, her eyes growing wide when she read the words written inside. She read them once. Then she read them a second time, just to reassure herself that she wasn't hallucinating.

_Ash, _(the note read)

_I've been thinking a lot about the first time we met—about the first time we kissed—and how, ever since then, I haven't been able to get you or that kiss out of my mind. And it's taken me this long to realize that if I let you go, I'd be making the biggest mistake of my life. There's so much that I want to say to you, so much that I want to tell you, but I can't. Because loving you is dangerous, and always will be, until things change. But they WILL change, and until then, I just want you to know that you have my heart._

_Love,_

_Randy_

There was no way that Ashley could properly describe the amalgamation of emotions that crashed over her at the conclusion of the note. She was too busy trying to keep her hands from shaking; too busy trying to keep her expression neutral. The whole world was pressing down on her, threatening to crush her into utter insignificance. Because that's what she was: insignificant. How could she hope to be anything greater after reading something like this? Something which even now threatened to take her breath away?

In the midst of her turmoil, Ashley became aware of two opposing convictions. The first was that she now knew who she was meant to be with.

And the second was that she could never let Matt know that truth.

The rookie Diva finally looked up, hoping, _praying_, that her eyes weren't betraying her. Matt had resumed his relentless march across the carpet; a trek which he rapidly ceased when he saw her looked at him. Ashley let her hands fall into her lap. "Matt," she managed to say. "I've never seen this note before."

Fury flickered across Matt's face, instantaneous, white-hot, and deadly. He stormed toward her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I _told_ you, _stop lying_—"

"_I'm not lying_!" Ashley shouted, rising to her feet as well. She was not tall, and not imposing by any stretch of the imagination, but whatever expression was on her face was enough to send the elder Hardy brother staggering backward in surprise. The Diva Search winner was angry—and wondered vaguely _why_ she was angry. After all, she _had_ been caught…just in the wrong trap. Maybe because she would be damned if she was going down for something she had never known about before tonight. Ashley jammed her finger in Matt's direction. "I listened to _you_; now it's _your _turn to listen to _me_." Matt started to open his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut, nodding curtly.

The rookie Diva continued, holding up the card. "If I knew about this, do you _really_ think that I would leave it where _anyone_ could find it?"

"I don't know!" Matt shot back. Apparently, he was done listening. "In fact, there's a _lot_ that I don't know! Like who 'Randy' is, for example!" He stopped, awareness dawning on his features. "Holy shit," he murmured. "_Orton_. That fucking scumbag Legend-killing Orton." He pointed at her. "_That's_ why he was staring at us in the parking garage. He wasn't staring at _us_; he was staring at _you_—"

"There is _nothing_ between me and Randy Orton!" the rookie Diva screamed. As she did so, pain ripped through her heart and she thought to herself _Oh my God, I'm going to hell…_ But she kept going. She had no choice but to keep going. She waved the note in front of Matt's face. "You want to know what happened between me and the Legend Killer?" Matt didn't answer, only nodded.

Now it was Ashley's turn to pace. "The first time we met—yeah, I kissed him." She saw the elder Hardy brother's face start to turn red and quickly went on. "And do you know _why_? Because Candice fucking Michelle and Torrie fucking Wilson _dared_ me to. All right? It was at SummerSlam, and we were in the parking garage, and they dared me to kiss the first guy who walked out of the hallway. And because I was a newbie and I was _stupid_, I _did it_. And it happened to be Randy Orton." She stopped, fixing Matt with a stare. "And after it was over, he walked away. After that, we had _nothing_ more to do with one another."

As she talked, Ashley was aware that she was walking a razor-thin line between lying and telling the truth. It wasn't as though she was lying outright…but she wasn't telling the whole truth, either. She also wondered who she was really doing it for. Was she truly trying to protect Matt…or was she just trying to save her own ass? Either way, she couldn't back out now.

"You don't believe me?" the rookie Diva demanded. "Ask one of those bitches. They were there. In fact, every Diva on the roster was there. Stephanie McMahon was there, too, if you want to call her up." Her fingers closed around the note, clutching it without crushing it. "This…this is probably something that Torrie or Candice thought up."

_Liar…_

"Why would they do that?" Matt retorted, but he sounded slightly chastened now.

"Because they like to fuck with me!" Ashley shot back. "Because they have been fucking with me since the first day, and because they're not happy unless I'm miserable!" She thrust the note upward again. "Why else do you think you got this note tonight, of _all_ nights? They are trying to hurt me by hurting you." Ashley swallowed, her ire evaporating. She stepped toward the elder Hardy brother. "Matt...please...listen to me. Just look at me--"

Matt cast his eyes toward the ground. When he spoke, his voice sounded faraway. "When I found out about Amy...and Adam..." He hesitated, closing his eyes briefly. "I confronted her...just I did with you...and she was full of excuses...just like you are." He looked up, and his gaze was once more accusing.

Ashley barely even noticed; her mind was too busy remembering her conversation with Lita. _You...are far too much like me_...the red-haired Diva had said. Ashley had thought that the Queen of Hardcore was just being crazy, or jealous, or whatever emotion that had driven her to corner the Diva Search winner in the first place. But now, standing here, listening to Matt's condemnation, she realized that Lita had merely been telling her the truth. Whether or not she actually _was_ like the red-headed Diva was still under debate, but the fact remained that Matt Hardy was looking at her right now and seeing only his ex-girlfriend.

The rookie Diva knew that she had no right to get angry, no right to lose her temper, but she couldn't stop herself. Ashley felt her emotions explode outward, tears springing to her eyes. "_Goddammit, I'm not HER_!" she shrieked. The accusatory light in Matt's eyes went out, and he moved back a step, stunned. The Diva Search winner gulped down a breath or two, trying to channel her feelings into coherent sentences. "Don't you get it?" she whispered. One by one, the tears spilled down her tears, but she made no move to wipe them away. "I thought that...when you look at me...you see _me_...but I was wrong." She closed her eyes, unable to look at the elder Hardy brother anymore. "All you _see_ is another version of _her_. Just a blond version of _her_." She turned away, swiping roughly at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Well, I'm not going to be _her_ substitute...not anymore."She couldn't even see the door anymore--she could barely see _anything_--but she moved toward it, trying to put distance between her and Matt Hardy.

"Ash! Wait!" The rookie Diva stopped, but didn't turn around. She felt his hand on her elbow, gently rotating her body to face his. Ashley lifted her head, trying to see through her tears. Matt's face was still shadowed, but it was no longer frightening. Now, he looked as anguished as she felt. The elder Hardy brother reached up, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I see _you_, Ash," he whispered. He moved closer to her, his body grazing hers, holding her face in both of his hands as he gazed at her. "All I see is you."

Ashley didn't get a chance to answer before his mouth was on hers. For a second, a moment, a _heartbeat_, she hesitated, thinking of Randy in the hallway, thinking of his hands on her body--But she forced it away. _This_ was her choice, _Matt_ was her choice...and Randy would just have to learn to accept it.

As she leaned into Matt's embrace, as she let him manuever her toward the bed, Ashley found herself thinking back to the note, to the cryptic nature of one of its lines:

_Loving you is dangerous_...

She would soon realize just how right Randy Orton had been.


	22. Chapter 22: Now You Know

**A/N: Okay, to all of my readers, I owe you a serious apology. I had Spring Break, during which I went away, after which I had the busiest two weeks of my life. This is the first opportunity I've had to just WRITE, and let me tell you, I almost went f'n nuts. To all of you who have read, reviewed, alerted, etc.--thank you so much for putting up with me! I may be a little rusty after a few weeks, but, eh, it happens. Hopefully, you'll enjoy. Peace!**

**Thank you to **Ashleymassarophan1, EverythingINeverWanted, Writinglove101, rory21, xAttitudex, **and** mcena99 **for reviewing! You're all AWESOME! (no, really, you are)

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Chapter 22: Now You Know

Matt donned a shirt, tugging the garment over his head and slipping his arms through the long sleeves. Running a hand quickly through his dark hair, he secured it behind his head in its customary ponytail. The elder Hardy brother paused for a moment, studying his reflection somberly in the mirror.

After twelve hours, last night's match seemed almost like a surreal dream. After all, what were the odds of him being kicked off the same brand by the same two individuals for the _second_ time? It didn't seem possible that after only two months back on Raw, he was banished from it yet again. At this, the aching muscles in his back, arms, and legs cried out a little more keenly; a painful reminder that last night's conclusion was not only possible, it had actually _happened._

Matt frowned. Even though he'd known for a long time that the match would probably end this way, it still didn't seem right. It was always anything goes in a ladder match—but still, it should have been just between him and Adam. As soon as the thought occurred to him, however, the elder Hardy brother banished it with a wry smile. _No_. It had _never_ been between just him and Adam. Ever since he had returned to the WWE, it had always been him versus the two of them.

Maybe when Amy had crucified him on those ropes, it had been her not-so-subtle way of telling him to move on, to forget about her and find someone else. Matt didn't know if he'd ever really forget Amy—despite what she had done to him, she had been such a huge part of his life for so many years—but he _had_ found someone else.

Which was why he could never really forget about last night. The beginning of it might have sucked…but the ending had been worth getting fired for.

Matt turned around, the solemn expression on his face softening at the sight of the sleeping figure in the bed behind him. Ashley lay on her side, her blond hair loose on the pillow, her body rising and falling slightly with each slumbering breath. A small smile touched her lips, as though she was in the midst of a pleasant dream.

Images flashed across Matt's brain, memories of the previous night. The softness of Ashley's skin beneath his hands and mouth, the light hitting the delicate curves of her face as she arched her head back, the soft cries that escaped her and the way she clung to him as she relinquished herself to ecstasy… Just looking at her sent a wave of desire coursing through the elder Hardy brother, so powerful that it almost knocked him over. He wanted her—that much was obvious—but this wash of emotion was much more that just simple lust. There was tenderness in there, too; tenderness…and sadness. He wanted to protect her, to save her like she had saved him.

More than that…he didn't want to leave her.

Matt wished there was some way he could bring Ashley to SmackDown as well. _That_ would be sweet. The two of them, on a new brand, with a fresh start, far away from the people who only wanted to make them miserable…too bad it was only a fantasy. He would have to settle for the hope shining on Ashley's face, for the sincerity in her voice as she said: _We'll make it work…Somehow, we'll make it work…because I don't want to lose you either._

The elder Hardy brother crossed the room, his sock-clad feet making no noise on the carpet. Climbing onto the bed, he crawled on hands and knees to where Ashley lay. Stretching out next to her, Matt draped his arm over her slender frame, hugging her to him. Leaning closer, he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck.

The rookie Diva stirred, stretching slightly and uttering a low sigh of contentment. She slowly rolled over onto her opposite side, her eyelids lifting to reveal those beautiful blue-green irises of hers—irises that lit up the moment she saw him. "Hey…" Ashley murmured, her voice still a little husky from sleep.

Matt couldn't hold back the smile that spread across his face. "Hey yourself," he whispered in response. Sliding his hand from her waist up to her cheek, he leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips. "How'd you sleep?"

The corners of Ashley's mouth turned upward in a smile. "Pretty good." Her smile became more mischievous. "Must have been all the physical…_activity_…I had last night." She fixed her eyes on her boyfriend. "How about you?"

Matt returned her grin, arching his head up to kiss her forehead. "Best I've slept in a long time." He pulled back a little, gazing tenderly at the Diva Search winner. "You must be my good luck charm."

At this, Ashley's smile faded a little, and she looked away. "I'm not that lucky," she answered after a few seconds. "I couldn't stop you from getting fired."

"Hey," Matt pulled her a little bit closer into his embrace. With his thumb, he traced the contour of her lower lip. "Don't worry about it, okay? This thing…it sucks, I know, but we'll make it through this. _We'll make it work_." He brushed a strand of Ashley's blond hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His countenance sobered, became almost wistful. "I just wish that I could take you with me."

The rookie Diva reached out to touch his face, her fingers trailing along the line of his jaw. "I know," she whispered.

For several moments, neither one of them said anything, then Matt abruptly sat up. "Hey, I've got an idea!" Ashley rolled over onto her back, gazing up at him expectantly. The elder Hardy brother continued. "I talked to Teddy Long this morning. He wants me to start attending the SmackDown shows, even though I probably won't debut for another week or two." He reached over and took Ashley's hand in his, entwining his fingers through hers as he talked. "So how about this Sunday, you swing by Houston and hang out with me during the pay-per-view?"

Ashley arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you serious? You want me to come to No Mercy?"

"Why not?" Matt replied. Ashley could almost see the excitement bubbling up inside him. "They never schedule house shows on pay-per-view days, you'll be in Texas already and besides…" He hesitated; the wistfulness creeping back into his face and voice. "I'm really gonna miss you."

Ashley felt tears sting her eyes and blinked rapidly. She had spent enough of last night crying; she really didn't want to start her morning with more of the same. Instead, the Diva Search winner pretended to ponder the question, tapping her chin with her finger. "I don't know; I'm still unconvinced—"

Matt bent down, silencing her with a kiss; one that was considerably less chaste than the others. When the pair finally pulled apart, Ashley closed her eyes for a second, trying to catch her breath. She ran her tongue over the edge of her lower lip. "_That_…was a pretty convincing argument," she eventually managed to say. She met Matt's gaze once again. "All right; I'll be there. But I'm only doing this because I love you, Matthew Moore Hardy."

The elder Hardy brother froze, pulling back a little. Turning his head to the side, he peered at her cautiously out of the corner of his eye. "What did you say?"

Ashley cast her gaze down, plucking at the fabric of the bedspread. "Matthew Moore Hardy. That _is_ your middle name, isn't it—"

Matt waved his hand impatiently, interrupting her flow of speech. "No, no, before that."

The rookie Diva slowly looked up, her blue-green irises locking with Matt's brown ones. "I love you," she murmured, lifting her hand up, the backs of her fingers caressing his face.

The elder Hardy brother leaned down until he was practically nose-to-nose with her. He reached out tentatively, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Say it again."

Ashley closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I love you, Matt Hardy."

"I love you, too, Ash," Matt replied. The pair come together in another kiss; one that went on and on and would have become something more if Ashley hadn't pulled away, giggling. "Come on, Matt, you're going to make me miss my flight!"

Matt smiled lazily, running his hand down the length of her body. He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Hmm…you could always catch a later one." But he obliged, sitting up and easing himself to the edge of the bed. Ashley sat up as well, covering herself with the bedspread. Matt turned back toward her. "I'm gonna go downstairs and see what they have in the way of free breakfast; once you're ready, we'll head to the airport."

"All right," Ashley agreed, nodding her head. Matt stood up and walked toward the door. As he put his fingers on the handle, he turned back to gaze at her one more time. The Diva Search winner blew him a kiss; the elder Hardy brother pretended to catch it and put it in his pocket. Mouthing "Bye", he opened the door and exited out into the hall.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Ashley fell back onto the bed, unable to keep a huge grin off her face. Last night had been incredible, and not just because of the sex—although that had been pretty damn good, too. No, it had been the fact that, after all the petty shit she had been through over the past few months, she had found a guy who loved her, and—to her surprise—she loved in return. She hadn't expected the words "I love you" to come tumbling out of her mouth this morning, but they had—and they felt _right_. Was it possible that she, Ashley Massaro, the 2005 Raw Diva Search winner, had just found her happy ending?

Amazing, considering everything that had gone down last night—

The rookie Diva felt her smile falter for a moment. _No…_some cold hard facet of her psyche whispered. _I will not think about that…that was in the past…and I will not dwell on the past_. The moment passed, and Ashley's grin brightened once more. Humming a Simple Plan song to herself, she threw the covers back and hopped off the bed. Her suitcase lay open a few feet away; Ashley grabbed an oversized concert t-shirt off the top and donned it. Padding on bare feet, she headed for the bathroom. As she reached the door frame, she glanced down…and paused.

There was a wastebasket just to the left of the bathroom door. The small white bin was empty except for one item—a small pink card. A _familiar_ pink card.

_Don't do it, Ash...don't go back there…_

The Diva Search winner stood, frozen, unable to walk away, unable to _look_ away…unable to do anything except _remember_…

_Ash...he's in the past…don't think about him; he's in the PAST—_

But it was too late. In a flash, Ashley's good mood dissipated, and all the events of the previous night crashed down on her like an enormous tidal wave. Matt's accusation, Lita's warning, Randy's kiss—everything that she had been struggling to suppress came rushing back to the forefront of her mind, overwhelming her.

_Ash!…_The little voice inside her head was frantic; she could almost feel it slamming itself against the inside of her skull. _Don't do it!...You're with Matt now; HE doesn't matter anymore…_But it was no use; the rookie Diva was beyond listening. Just like every one of her other experiences with Randy Orton, she was no longer thinking with her head—but with her heart.

The Diva Search winner knelt down, reaching into the wastebasket and extracting the card. Flipping it open, she scanned its contents once more. Alone now, without Matt watching her every facial tic, she allowed herself to savor the words printed on its surface.

_…I just want you to know that you have my heart…_

Several long moments went by. Finally, Ashley closed her eyes, a soft shuttering sigh escaping her throat. Folding the card closed, she lifted it up and pressed it reverently to her lips.

Just as she had promised Matt, she _would_ be visiting him at No Mercy—but that wouldn't be the _only_ reason she was going.

There were some questions that she needed answered.

* * *

Ashley pulled into a parking space near the back of the garage at the Toyota Center, putting the car in park and shutting off the engine. Clasping her hands together, she leaned forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was going to explode out of her chest. Her whole body wouldn't stop shaking, and she could feel icy beads of perspiration trickling down her back.

Not even during the finals of the Diva Search had Ashley felt this nervous. Her stomach was clenched so tight that even eating was an uphill battle. She had tried to eat a bagel on the way, and five minutes later, had had to pull the car over to the side of the road so that she could retch onto the shoulder. As a result, her blood sugar was running dangerously low, and Ashley knew that she ran a pretty good chance of fainting if she didn't get _some_ nourishment into her body.

But eating was the furthest thing from Ashley's mind. In fact, pretty much _everything_ was the furthest thing from her mind. How could she even hope to concentrate on ordinary tasks when the two roads of her life—roads that she had worked hard to keep separate—were coming dangerously close to converging tonight?

The last time she had come to SmackDown, she had been there at the invitation of the Legend Killer. And even though she and Randy hadn't been making out in public or anything like that, at least half of the Friday night roster had seen them together. This had happened before she and Matt had ever started dating, but _still…_

She knew that Matt had friends on the SmackDown side; how many of them had seen her with Randy a little over a month ago? That note—_wherever_ it had came from—that damned note had placed Matt on high alert, and even though he had seemingly accepted her story, the rookie Diva suspected that there was still some part of him—some small facet of his subconscious—that no longer trusted her.

Ashley had a feeling that despite the elder Hardy brother's normally sweet, funny, caring attitude, he would be watching her a little closer than usual this evening; watching to see how she would react if she came face-to-face with Randy Orton. That alone terrified Ashley, because not even _she_ was sure how she was going to react when confronted with the Legend Killer…or how he was going to react to her. All it would take was one wrong look or comment at the wrong moment, and the rookie Diva would find herself in the middle of an all-out brawl. Or worse, minus a boyfriend.

More than that, though, Ashley couldn't stop thinking about the answer she still owed Randy. She had asked for some time to think, and he had granted her that. But as the days slipped by, the Diva Search winner realized that she wasn't weighing a decision; she was merely delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later, she would have to look Randy in the eyes and tell him that they couldn't be together—and that was something Ashley wasn't sure she was strong enough to do. Not just because it would break her heart and maybe his—but because she was afraid that once those azure irises met hers, she would change her mind.

The rookie Diva took a deep breath and lifted her head up, finger-combing her hair back from her face. She checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. A little pale, but generally okay. Rolling her eyes heavenward, Ashley mouthed a silent prayer for good luck and opened the car door.

She moved out into the parking garage, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her blue-green eyes scanning the scene. There was the usual horde of backstage personnel; even more than normal due to it being a pay-per-view. Most of the SmackDown Superstars and Divas must have already arrived; Ashley didn't see anyone that she recognized. Just like last time, no one gave her so much as a second glance; they were too wrapped up in their own tasks.

As the Diva Search winner neared the hallway leading to the arena, some of her anxiety finally evaporating when she spotted a familiar figure. Matt was pacing back and forth near a set of equipment crates. Even at this distance, his nervousness was evident…and kind of cute. The rookie Diva couldn't stop herself from smiling at the sight of her boyfriend. Picking up her pace, she moved quickly across the parking garage.

Matt must have caught her movements out of the corner of his eye, because he looked over sharply. His face immediately lit up in a grin when he saw the Diva Search winner. Closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms around her in a hug, actually lifting her off the ground.

Ashley burst out laughing. "Holy shit, Matt! Put me down! Put me down!" The elder Hardy brother obliged, setting her back on her feet. He gazed at her for a few seconds, and then, holding her face in his hands, pulled her into a sweet, tender kiss. Ashley put her hands on his chest, leaning into him as she returned the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, Matt gave her a quick peck on the cheek, reaching down to take both of her hands in his. "Come on!" he urged. "Let me introduce you before the show starts."

He led her out of the garage into the hallway, maneuvering carefully around crew members rushing from the opposite direction. Ashley swung her gaze from the bustle of activity to the elder Hardy brother. "So…just how long _were_ you waiting for me?"

Matt glanced back at her, attempting to look innocent and failing miserably. "Not long." The rookie Diva shot him a Look. Matt rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh. "_Okay_. I _was_ actually going to be good and wait in the locker room until you got here, but after about five minutes, Shannon told me that my pacing was making him nervous and if I didn't stop, he was going to kick my ass."

Ashley giggled. "There, don't you feel better for saying that?"

The elder Hardy brother looked back at her again, paused long enough to slip his arm around her waist and pull her close. "Actually, I felt better the moment I saw you in the garage." Leaning over, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Ashley smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. The tension was slowly draining from her body; her muscles unlocking one by one. The Diva Search winner turned her attention back toward the corridor in front of her. So far, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Matt was his usual self, no one seemed to be giving her any funny looks, and she had seen no sign of—

She had not even finished the thought when, up ahead, a figure appeared from around the corner , moving toward her and Matt. A very _familiar_ figure. Randy laced his fingers behind his head as he sauntered down the hall. His face was an emotionless mask; he appeared to be lost in thought.

Ashley felt her heart leap into her throat, cutting off her flow of oxygen. The smile slipped off her face; she could almost feel the blood draining along with it. Her stomach compressed into a hard little knot, and she nearly started shaking. The rookie Diva cast her eyes down toward the floor, as looking away could somehow make him blind to her. _Please don't see me…_she prayed fervently. _Please don't see me…please don't see me…_ But at the edge of her vision, she saw the Legend Killer's movements slow, then stop altogether, and she knew—from the way her skin was constricting into goosebumps—that he was looking in her direction.

The Diva Search winner didn't want to look up—would have given anything not to _have_ to look up—but she knew instinctively that doing so might be the only way to get Randy to stop. She hesitantly lifted her gaze, the breath involuntarily leaving her body when she looked into those blue eyes. As she feared, the Legend Killer was staring at her, and making no attempts to hide it. His expression was neutral, but just barely; Ashley could sense the emotion simmering just below the surface.

The rookie Diva looked back at him beseechingly, trying to put all of her thoughts into her eyes. _Please, just look away…_she pleaded silently. _Just walk away before Matt sees you…_Once again, her thought was a half-second too slow, because she felt Matt suddenly tense beside her. The elder Hardy brother sucked in a breath. "That son of a bitch," he muttered through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna kick his ass—"

"Matt!" Ashley hissed, reaching up to grab his hand. She tore her gaze from Randy, turning toward her boyfriend. Matt's countenance was stony; his dark eyes were fixed on the muscular form of the Legend Killer. Ashley knew that it was up to her to prevent any ensuing violence. "Matt, listen to me. _Nothing happened._ It was a long time ago, it was before I ever met you—it didn't mean anything." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "_Please…_for me…just let it go."

For a second or two, she wasn't sure if Matt had even heard her; then, the tension in his body eased as he let out his breath. "You're right, Ash." The elder Hardy brother turned toward her. "You're right. He's not worth it." Moving his hand up to the back of her neck, he dipped his head down to kiss her. Ashley let him, slipping both of her arms around his neck.

She could feel Randy's eyes on her the entire time.

* * *

Ashley lay back across one of the locker room benches, closing her eyes and cracking her neck back and forth a few times. No Mercy was still going on; there was, in fact, a match taking place right now, but the rookie Diva had ceased to care. Partly because Matt wasn't wrestling at the pay-per-view…but also because of the match she had just witnessed.

In all that he had told her about himself, Randy had never even once talked about his feud with the Undertaker. Which, in retrospect, was strange, considering how it pretty much dominated his in-ring life. Ashley had known about it—you would have had to be living under a rock _not _to know about it—but because she was on Raw, and Randy never mentioned it, it had never really resonated with her. Even though this was the third bout between the Legend Killer and the Phenom, Ashley had never really pondered just how far the hatred between these two men must go.

Until now.

When she had seen Randy lock the Undertaker into the enormous casket, she had felt uneasy. When she saw him douse the entire thing with gasoline and set it on fire, she had felt downright sick; she literally thought she was going to throw up. It wasn't just what he had done; it was the _look_ on his face while he had _done_ it. His expression…it had been almost…_triumphant_. As though putting another man's life in danger was something to be proud about.

For the first time in a while, the rookie Diva remembered Trish's admonition regarding Randy; about how far he would go, what depths he would sink to, to be declared the victor. Everything that Trish and Maria had told her about the Legend Killer, even how he had RKO'd his own girlfriend—Ashley had listened, but she hadn't really _believed_ that it could be true.

Well, she was a believer now.

Ashley rolled over onto her side, her eyelids opening a crack. Dully, she wondered how someone could be so full of emotion and yet so inhuman at the same time...

Someone rapped on the door. Since this was not her brand or her locker room, Ashley disregarded it, shutting her eyes once more. She heard the soft scrape of boots against the floor, the sound of the door opening, and a brief murmur of muddled conversation. The Diva Search winner pillowed her head on her arm, trying to block out the memory of bright orange flames…

"Ashley?" The rookie Diva rolled over onto her back, opening her eyes and looking toward the source of the voice. Christy Hemme stared down at her, her vibrant red hair spilling over her shoulders, a puzzled expression on her pretty face. She extended her hand; there was a folded slip of paper between her index and middle finger. "Someone left a note for you."

This got Ashley's attention. The Diva Search winner sat up, planting both feet on the floor. "Who brought it?"

Her Diva Search predecessor shrugged. "I don't know. It was some guy with a headset; he said he was just the messenger."

Ashley reached out and took the piece of paper from Christy, unfolding it. The message was short, printed in a scrawled handwriting that she recognized all too well:

_Ash,_

_I have to talk to you._

_--R_

Ashley's expression didn't change, even though inside her chest, she felt her heartbeat accelerate to near-dangerous levels. The Diva Search winner slowly lifted her head up, staring past Christy at nothing in particular. Without looking down, she crumpled the note until it was little more than a tiny ball of paper. Shoving the litter into the front pocket of her jeans, she rose to her feet.

Christy, in the meanwhile, was staring at her with concern that bordered on alarm. "Ash? Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Ashley replied, secretly shocked by how calm, how _normal_, her voice sounded. "I'll be right back; there's something I need to take care of." Without offering any further information, she eased around Christy and exited the room.

Once she was out in the hall, the rookie Diva felt her features sag, and she exhaled so deeply that she felt as though she might sink into the floor. She pushed her hair back with both hands, and then looked around. To her right, there was nothing out of the ordinary, but to her left…Ashley turned just in time to see someone slip behind the corner. She didn't catch a face…but she recognized the turquoise tribal tattoos.

Slowly, on feet that were now completely numb, Ashley walked toward the corner. Her stomach churned with emotion, but it was no longer fear or anxiety that gripped her, but _anger_. And with each step she took, that hot irrational fury grew, bubbling up inside her, nearly scalding her. She was going to lose her temper, that much was certain. The how and when were the only variables left.

She wasn't sure who she was madder at, though: Randy…or herself.

The Diva Search winner turned the corner, embarking down a new corridor. She had gone only a few feet before a hand shot out of a shallow alcove in the wall, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into the niche. Ashley yelped in surprise, struggling to pull herself free. She looked furiously toward her abductor, angry words on her lips…words that instantly died away when Randy's eyes met hers.

The Legend Killer was still in his wrestling gear; he hadn't even bothered to throw on a t-shirt. But Ashley—for once—didn't even notice his chiseled body; she couldn't stop staring at his face. There was none of the mad triumph she had seen following his immolation of the Undertaker's casket. No…the expression written across his features was so tortured and yet so hopeful that she didn't know what to think of it. It was like looking at a damned man who thinks he has finally located his source of salvation.

Luckily for Ashley, reality reasserted itself. Anger flooded her body once more, breaking Randy's spell on her with a nearly audible SNAP. The rookie Diva yanked her wrist free, backing away from the Legend Killer until her back collided with the opposite wall. "What the hell do you want, Randy?" she snapped in a low voice.

Randy's countenance didn't change; he didn't even blink. There was something about the blue intensity of his gaze that was completely unnerving. "I have to talk to you."

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, I gathered that from your little note." She looked around quickly. The two of them were in a little niche that housed the door to a supply closet; the hallway just outside was empty. Nevertheless, the Diva Search winner kept her voice down. "Is there a particular topic you wanted to discuss?"

Randy didn't acknowledge her sarcasm. He pushed his tall frame off the wall, taking a step toward her. His azure irises bored into hers. "Last week, you asked me to give you some time…time to figure things out…and I gave it to you. But now…it's been a week…and you still haven't given me an answer."

"So…what?" the rookie Diva retorted. "You thought you'd just put me on the spot?" She pushed herself off the wall as well. "Do you have _any_ idea what would happen if Matt saw you with me?"

"So why are you here?" Annoyance bloomed on Randy's face, flushing his skin. He moved even closer to her, his body almost grazing hers. "If you're so worried about Matt, then _why are you here_?"

His question momentarily robbed Ashley of speech, as she realized that she really didn't _know_ why. A second crept by, then another, and neither one of them moved. Gradually, her eyes never leaving Randy's face, Ashley reached back into her back pocket and extracted the small pink card. Swallowing hard, she unfolded it and held it up toward Randy's face.

Any doubts she might have had about the note's authenticity were wiped away by the Legend Killer's reaction. The ire vanished, leaving only shock and a kind of quiet misery, and Randy looked away, pressing his hand to his forehead.

Ashley felt tears climbing up her throat, but she swallowed them, forcing herself to speak. The third-generation Superstar had pretty much answered her first question, so she pressed on with her second. Her voice was just barely above a whisper. "Did you mean it?"

"Where did you get that?" Randy replied, his tone just as quiet as hers.

"_Did you mean it_?" Ashley pressed, trying to shout without raising her voice. Her breath was coming out in strangled gasps; she clamped her mouth shut, biting her lip.

Randy didn't move for what seemed like the longest time. Eventually, he raised his head and slowly bobbed it up and down in a nod. Even that nonverbal gesture was unnecessary; his answer was written for the world to see in his eyes. He actually seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Ashley looked away, glancing down at the floor. She was dangerously close to bursting into tears, and it was taking all of her self-control to hold herself back. She studied the concrete surface beneath her feet, her blond hair falling across her face. She didn't look at Randy as she spoke. "I don't get you. You're hot, you're cold, you can't make up your mind. But just when I think that you're not worth it, that I should get over you—you write something like _this_—" She wiggled the card. "—that breaks my heart."

"Ash—" Randy's hand was on her face, his fingertips searing her skin. The image of flames flashed across Ashley's mind again, and she shrank back, pushing his hand away.

"_No_!" she cried, her voice breaking. She pressed her hand to her mouth, drawing in deep breath after deep breath as she struggled to regain control of herself. Randy remained where he was, but made no further attempts to touch her. After a couple seconds, Ashley let her hand fall back down to her side, looking back up at Randy again. "Don't you understand how dangerous you're making this for me?"

The Legend Killer frowned, his miserable expression becoming almost puzzled. The Diva Search winner went on. "Candice and Torrie are gunning for me, Trish won't stop talking about what a bastard you are, Lita—get this, _LIta_—cornered me and basically told me that if I decide to follow in her cheating footsteps, she'll kick my ass, and if _that_ wasn't bad enough—" The rookie Diva held up the card again. "—someone shoved _this_ under Matt's door."

Randy didn't reply, so Ashley continued. "He went ballistic; he accused me of cheating on him—he probably _still_ thinks that I'm cheating on him, for all I know." The Diva Search winner paused, glancing away, running one hand through her streaked hair. "The only way I could convince him that I'm not—" She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip again before going on. "—was by telling him that there's nothing between us."

"Did _you_ mean it?" Ashley closed her eyes, flinching. Randy still hadn't budged, but for some reason, it felt as though he had moved closer to her. It was the raw rasp of pain in his voice; the voice of someone clinging to their last shred of hope. It was a pain that Ashley recognized, because it was tearing her own heart to pieces.

The rookie Diva looked over, steeling herself for the inevitable gut punch when she met Randy's gaze. With two strides, she closed the space between them, staring up into his face. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed incredulously. "You really have no clue, do you?" She lowered her voice, even though it was unnecessary; the hallway was still deserted. "When you look at me, I can't breathe; when you _kiss_ me, I want to _die_—of _course_ I didn't mean it!" Ashley shook her head slowly. "I _lied_. I _lied_ to a sweet, wonderful guy who loves me—because I still can't get over you. Well, I'm tired of lying." She lifted her chin slightly. "You wanted an answer? Here it is…I'm getting over you. I _have_ to get over you."

Randy looked as though someone had just slapped him across the face; the shock was that abrupt and that painful. Just looking at his tortured expression made Ashley want to break down, but she held it together, _forced_ herself to hold it together. _Think of the casket…_she told herself. _Think of the flames…_ She eventually regained her voice. "I saw your match tonight."

The bewilderment had returned to the Legend Killer's expression, and Ashley didn't blame him; he probably had no idea where she was going with this. Or maybe he did. Either way, she continued, her voice starting to crack again. "You locked another man in a casket, lit it on fire—and you _enjoyed _it."

Randy pulled back, taking a step away from her. Somehow, she had just managed to intimidate him. There was awareness in his face now, and it was probably the ugliest expression she had seen him wear so far. "Ash, let me explain—" he began tentatively.

Ashley, however, wasn't finished. "You just can't _do_ that to another _human being_ and walk away!"

"_He's not human_!" the Legend Killer interrupted, his features twisting with fury, his deep voice almost a roar. This brief unleashing of his wrath was enough to stun Ashley into silence. Her chest grew tight, making breathing difficult, if not impossible. A tear trickled down her cheek. Randy stared at her for a moment, gulping down deep breaths of air, and the anger evaporated. "Ash…Ash, I'm sorry…" he whispered. Hesitantly, he stretched his hand out toward her. "There's things about me…things that you need to understand—"

"Save it." The Diva Search winner's tone was clipped and terse. Her delicate features looked as though they had been carved out of granite. She brought her arms up, crossing them over her chest once more. "Excuses…all you _have_ is _excuses_! Why don't you just come out and admit it: you're an emotional _fuck-up_ who won't let anyone get close to you!" She took a step toward the third-generation Superstar. "How long would it have taken before you shut me out? How _long_ would it have _taken_ before you pushed me away like everyone else?"

Another step. "Everyone kept telling me to stay away from you; that you're some kind of monster. And—idiot that I was—I assumed that they were all wrong. Turns out they were all _right_." The rookie Diva jabbed her finger at him, poking him in the chest. "You _are_ a monster—and you'll forgive me if I don't want to end up like Stacy Keibler."

Ashley saw surprise cross Randy's face and rushed on. "What? You actually thought I wouldn't find out about her? About what _you_ _did_ to her?" The Diva Search winner paused to take a breath. Her anger was ebbing away bit by bit, stealing her words, threatening to leave her mute and helpless. But she had to keep talking. She had to end this.

_She had to end this._

The rookie Diva gazed up at the Legend Killer, tears pooling in her blue-green eyes. "I don't know who you are," she finally admitted. "I've _never_ known who you are. But I _do_ know Matt…and I'm sick of pushing him away because I'm too busy waiting for you to make up your mind." That was it; there was nothing more to say. She was _incapable_ of saying anything else.

Ashley spun around, intending to storm out of the alcove—and was yanked right back around when Randy grabbed her arm. The Diva Search winner uttered a muffled shriek, which quickly died away into nothing when she saw the look on Randy's face. It was terrifying and tortured and heartbreaking all at the same time. Ashley didn't know whether to be afraid…or turned on.

The Legend Killer grasped her upper arms, restraining her, and slowly but forcibly pushed her against the opposite wall. Ashley couldn't move; she was pinned between cinderblock and the muscular form of Randy Orton. She slowly tilted her head up, looking into his eyes, sinking into those blue depths, awaiting what would come next with an odd combination of dread and desire.

Randy lowered his head until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the rookie Diva. He was breathing hard; his forehead was beaded with perspiration. When he spoke, it was almost through gritted teeth. "You once told me that if I cared about you, all I would have to do was tell you…and you would come. Well, I _do_ care…and I'm telling you."

With the same blinding speed that he used to execute an RKO, he grabbed Ashley by the back of the neck and kissed her. This kiss was nothing like the one they had first shared, or the one in the hallway; this was hard and brutal and passionate. It was pure intensity, and the moment his mouth met hers, Ashley felt as though electricity was rippling across her skin. She didn't even try to struggle; she had no choice but to relinquish herself to the feeling.

Randy pushed her against the wall, his hands sweeping over the curves of her body. Ashley couldn't prevent a moan from escaping her throat. She arched her back, molding her body against his. She felt Randy's hand at the waistband of her jeans—and then stiffened as he abruptly undid the top button. His fingers grazed the zipper, tugging it down just a notch. The Legend Killer broke off the kiss, sliding his mouth back to her ear. "Now, _you_ try and tell me that you don't want this." he murmured.

For a heartbeat, Ashley didn't move. Then, with a burst of strength, she shoved Randy away from her. Before the Legend Killer could react to this rejection, she swung her hand up, slapping him across the face as hard as she could. Randy was so stunned that he just stood there, mouth hanging open, staring at her.

The Diva Search winner met his gaze, her expression full of incredulous anger. "What the _fuck_?" she spat. "I'm not your fucking whore!" She stepped to the side, sidling away from him, refastening her jeans as she spoke. Randy made no move to stop her. "You think it's that simple; well, it's _not_! I can't just walk away from everything because you finally decided to give a damn!"

She turned to go, freezing once more at the sound of Randy's voice. The third-generation Superstar sounded resigned, almost tired, but she could still catch that thread of raw pain behind his words. "Are you choosing Matt because you love him…or because you're afraid?"

Ashley didn't turn around. She lifted her head up, blinking as tears rolled down her cheeks. "You're one to talk about being afraid," she retorted.

She strode away before Randy could say anything else.

* * *

The World Heavyweight Champion was reclining on his bed, waiting for Orton to get out of the shower so that he could jump in there, when he heard a tentative knock at the door. Batista frowned, setting aside his magazine, and easing his massive frame off the bed. He wasn't expecting any "company" this evening, and Randy had been so out of it since the conclusion of No Mercy that he doubted the Legend Killer even knew what day it was.

The Animal walked slowly to the door, taking off the security chain and pulling it open. His puzzled frown quickly relaxed into an appreciative smile when he saw that the mystery knocker was none other than that piece of punk-rock hotness known as Ashley Massaro.

The World Heavyweight Champion leaned against the doorframe, studying the Raw Diva before him. A little too pierced for _his_ tastes, but there was nothing wrong with looking. He noted that Ashley's eyes were red and bloodshot; she looked like she had been crying. "Hey, baby girl, what's up?" he asked lightly.

Ashley didn't answer at first; only looked past him into the room. "Is Randy here?" Her voice was slightly nasal, as though she had a cold.

Batista glanced behind him. "He's in the bathroom; he'll be out in a minute." He turned back toward the rookie Diva. "If you'll just come in—"

"Can you give him this?" The Diva Search winner shoved something at him, and the Animal gingerly accepted, giving it only a cursory glance before turning his attention back to the Raw Diva. Ashley hesitated for a second or two; clearly wanting to say more, but unsure of how to phrase it. "Tell him—oh, hell, tell him whatever you want; I don't care." Without even offering a goodbye, she dashed off down the hall, clapping both hands over her face.

The World Heavyweight Champion watched her go, then rolled his eyes. First Orton, now this chick. Was there something in the water? Batista shrugged, stepping back inside the room and shutting the door. As he did so, he used the opportunity to study the item that Ashley had so carelessly thrust in his direction. The confused frown returned when he saw that it was one of Randy's "R.K.O." t-shirts. On top of the neatly folded garment was a small pink card.

The Animal cocked his head to the side, wondering how two ordinary items could have such significance, when the bathroom door opened and Randy stepped out. "Shower's all yours, dude," he called out. The Legend Killer glanced from his friend to the door. "Was there someone at the door?"

The World Heavyweight Champion nodded. "Yeah, your girlfriend stopped by. You know, the one who looks like she climbed out of a mosh pit?" He held out the t-shirt and card. "She said this was for you."

Randy hesitantly accepted the bundle, his eyebrows coming together in bewilderment. Batista watched him, fully expecting the Legend Killer to laugh and make some comment about how crazy women were. But Randy did neither. Instead, the confusion on his face rapidly transformed into shock…then disbelief. His hand closed over the card, and with his thumb, he flipped it open, his eyes scanning the inside.

All of a sudden, Randy went stock-still. The card slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the floor. The t-shirt soon followed it, landing in a puddle of black cotton. No sooner had it hit the floor, however, then Randy was moving, storming into the bathroom, his hands clenched into fists. Before Batista could even move to stop him, he punched the mirror. Then he punched it again. And again.

The Animal's temporary paralysis shattered and he moved quickly toward his friend, wrapping one arm over his chest and dragging him bodily out of the bathroom. The mirror was cracked in several places, Randy's knuckles were bleeding, but his face—there was nothing in his face, nothing at all. It was as though he no longer felt anything, especially not the searing pain in his hand. His eyes were unfocused, staring off into nothing.

Batista spun Randy around to face him, glancing down at his bloody knuckles. "What the hell, man?" he exclaimed, with no small amount of irritation. "What the hell—all this, over a _girl_?" He bent down a little, peering into Randy's face. "Dude! _Dude_! Listen to me—_she's not worth it_."

As soon as those last words fell out of the World Heavyweight Champion's mouth, Randy tensed. His eyes snapped to the side; focused on Batista. Where there had previously been nothing—was now a furious glare. Snarling wordlessly, the Legend Killer swung his fist again, catching the Animal right in the jaw and knocking him to his knees.

Batista grabbed his face, shaking his head to clear away the dizziness. It had been a while since he had faced Orton in competition—he had forgotten how hard the little bastard could hit. After reassuring himself that nothing was broken, he lowered his hand. His fingers came away bloody; Randy must have hit him with his injured fist.

As the Animal glanced around, looking for something to clean his face off, his eyes lighted on the small card; the one whose contents had set the Legend Killer off. He picked it up, his fingers leaving red smears on its delicate pink surface, and flipped it open.

A small piece of white paper had been taped to its interior, bearing only a few words:

_I'm sorry._

_--Ash

* * *

  
_

Ashley pulled her knees up to her chest, her tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this miserable, this _alone_. Which was ridiculous; she had finally come to a decision regarding the enormous clusterfuck that was her love life. She had finally made a choice—and one for the better.

So why did she feel like killing herself right now?

The rookie Diva stretched out on the bottom stair, pressing her face to the cold concrete. After delivering the t-shirt and note to Randy's room, she had fled to the stairwell, running down two or three flights before she eventually felt secure enough to cry in solitude. She knew that she needed to pull herself together; the excuse she had given Matt wasn't all that great, and she needed some serious time in the bathroom to hide the evidence of her weeping. But Ashley didn't care. She didn't care about anything; not Raw, not the WWE—not even Matt.

So this was what a broken heart felt like; this pain in her soul that made her want to pull the covers over her head and sleep for a thousand years. She had just turned her back on the man she was meant to be with; had turned and ran like a scared little kid. And not because he didn't care about her, and certainly not because she didn't care about him—but because she was afraid. She had once accused Randy of being a coward, but as she had just discovered, she was the cowardly one.

_I couldn't even tell him to his face!..._the Diva Search winner thought miserably. _I just threw the shirt at that walking sex-machine friend of his, stammered like an idiot, and ran…I didn't even tell him why_…

She could feel time slipping away, but the rookie Diva didn't move. Moving would mean going back to Matt, and as much as she did care for the elder Hardy brother—going back to him would mean forgetting. Forgetting Randy's kiss, his touch…forgetting him utterly.

"But I don't _want_ to forget!" Ashley blurted out suddenly, her voice echoing off the wall of the stairwell. She stared at the floor in front of her, tears still leaking from her ideas. "I love you, Randy…" she whispered. "I love you…"

With that, she began sobbing quietly again…unaware that she was no longer alone.

Ashley had been crying so hard that she never noticed the subtle drop in the temperature—or the faint aroma of smoke that seemed to fill the enclosed space of the stairwell. Therefore, she also never saw the black-clad figure looming silently at the top of the stairs above her.

From beneath the wide brim of his hat, the Undertaker watched the rookie Diva weep, his shadowed expression as impassive as stone.


	23. Chapter 23: Meet Mickie James

**A/N: Apologies are in order, first for my laziness in posting, second for this chapter. I set very high standards for myself when I write, and this chapter is not--in my mind--up to them. This chapter and the following one were actually the same chapter, but I got so frustrated trying to write it that I just chopped it in half last night and decided to post it in two parts. To all of you who have been bearing with me, thank you so much for putting up with my procrastinating self. It really means a lot to me that you're enjoying the story so far.**

**Thank you to **mcena99, Writinglove101, Ashleymassarophan1, xAttitudex, Batista Addicts, rory21, ShannonMoore'sxLoverx. **and **QueenOfAnarchy89 **for reviewing the last chapter! You ROCK!

* * *

**

Chapter 23: Meet Mickie James

Ashley set down her curling iron and studied her reflection in the mirror, running a hand through her black-and-blond tresses. She barely recognized the figure staring back at her. Gone was the optimistic little punk girl from New York who had beat out seven other contestants to become the Raw Diva Search winner of 2005. Instead, the girl in the mirror looked older, harder; as though the last two months had robbed her of her natural cheerfulness.

Ashley had no doubt that her battles with Raw's three she-devils had forced her to grow up somewhat; she wasn't the naïve rookie she had been back in August. But in regards to her personal life… she never imagined that it would come to this; that she would be standing in front of this mirror, trying to conceal the signs of a broken heart.

Almost twenty-four hours had gone by since the events at No Mercy, and the word that could best describe the rookie Diva's current emotional state was _numb_. She couldn't feel anything; her senses seemed to have been swathed in fog, rendering the world around her dull, flat, and stale. She felt like she was watching her life from a distance, as though the events of her existence were happening to another girl named Ashley, who looked like her and sounded like her, but who _wasn't_ her. _That_ Ashley was happy, while _this _one…well, she was miserable.

She didn't know how she had pulled herself together last night following her "errand" to the Legend Killer's room, but somehow she had done it, hiding the evidence of her tears and forcing a smile onto her face when Matt opened the door. Even more incredibly, the elder Hardy brother had believed her when she told him that she had just gone to hang out with Christy for a little bit. Just seeing him accept her lie without even a hint of suspicion made Ashley want to burst into tears all over again.

_I'm a liar!..._the Diva Search winner had screamed silently. _I'm a horrible person...I'm in love with another man—I was making out with him while you were talking to Teddy Long!...Don't you see?...Don't you get it?..._ But in the end, her internal protests had remained unvoiced—because as much she hated lying to Matt, she couldn't stand the thought of hurting him. With the emotional roller coaster the elder Hardy brother had been on over the last six months, Ashley couldn't bring herself to disrupt his life any further.

Besides, it wasn't as though she was on the losing end of the bargain by choosing him. Matt was an amazing guy. He and Ashley understood each other; in many ways, they were perfect for each other. And the rookie Diva had meant what she said: she really did love him. If she had left Matt for an emotional cripple like Randy Orton, no one would have understood—just like no one understood how Lita could have left Matt for Edge.

But then again, maybe Ashley understood. As much as it pained her to admit it…maybe she understood all too well.

"Hey, Ash! You okay over there?"

The Diva Search winner quickly glanced over her shoulder, flashing a brief smile at the concerned Women's Champion. "No worries, Trish—just thinking about the match tonight."

Upon arrival at the AmericanBank Center in Corpus Christi, Trish had been informed by Eric Bischoff that she would be defending her Women's Championship tonight against Victoria—even though Ashley personally didn't understand how a defeat last week equated a title shot this week. The rookie Diva knew that Trish was nervous—Victoria had beaten her for the title before, and she had really caught a lucky break two weeks ago when Candice and Torrie had gotten the Vicious Vixen disqualified. After last week's Bra & Panties debacle, the evil triad had been in a _mood_, and Ashley was pretty sure that this time, they would not be repeating past mistakes. And it wasn't exactly comforting to know that _she_ was the Women's Champion's sole source of backup should things spill outside the ring.

More than that, however, Ashley knew that Trish was worried about her, and she didn't blame her: the last time the Women's Champion had seen her, the Diva Search winner had been horribly depressed, and she hadn't been in much better spirits after arriving at the arena this afternoon. But as much as Ashley wanted to confide in Trish, she knew that she couldn't—because in Trish's mind, the rookie Diva was only upset because Matt was gone. The elder Hardy brother's unwarranted termination from Raw was certainly a part of Ashley's melancholia…but not even close to the real reason behind it.

The Diva Search winner hated hiding the truth from Trish almost as much as she hated lying to Matt, but she simply had no other alternative. The Women's Champion had more or less implied what the consequences would be if Ashley chose the Legend Killer over Matt. After all, she had never forgiven Lita for what she had done—and the two of them had been _friends._ What chance did Ashley have then of making herself understood? Of explaining that despite her affection for Matt, she had somehow fallen in love with Randy Orton?

Just like she had been two months ago, the rookie Diva was alone, but this was even worse than being at the mercy of Candice Michelle and Torrie Wilson. _This_ was the worst kind of loneliness; the awareness that even when she was with her friends, she was by herself…and only she knew just how alone she was. Ashley knew that she had made the right decision, but by doing so, she had placed herself into an emotional quagmire that she could never let anyone discover.

_I'm grieving…_the Diva Search winner thought to herself. _I'm grieving, and I'm the only one who knows it…And the one person who would understand is the one guy I can't see again, not ever…_

Ashley bowed her head, letting her golden hair fall across her face like a shield, and took a deep breath. After a few seconds, she looked back up, and squaring her shoulders, plastered a smile onto her face and turned around. Trish was seated on a bench a few feet away, examining her red-and-gold title belt for any fingerprint smears. "I wouldn't worry if I were you, though," the rookie Diva remarked casually. "Ten bucks those dumb bitches try and pull the same stunt they did last time."

The Women's Champion rolled her eyes. "Yeah, we should all be lucky," Locating a spot on her title belt, Trish breathed on the metal plate, rubbing away the smudge with the heel of her hand.

The locker room door flew open suddenly and both Divas looked up, their surprise quickly transforming into disdain as Candice and Torrie sauntered in. The brunette Diva was wearing a black minidress that scarcely covered anything, while her blonde counterpart wore an equally skimpy white top and pants.

"Speaking of bitches…" Trish added, the lightness of her tone barely concealing her dislike.

Candice looked over at the Women's Champion, and for just a moment, her smirk twisted downward into a frown. The evil Diva's dark eyes narrowed. "Whatever…" Candice drawled, her nasal voice even more irritating than usual. Her gaze traveled downward, landing on the title belt in Trish's lap. "Polishing your precious championship?" she asked. It was obvious from her tone that she did not expect an answer. The corners of her mouth dipped back up in a sneer. "Make sure and shine it up _real nice_ because in a little bit…it's not gonna be yours anymore."

The Women's Champion and her protégé exchanged a puzzled glance, before turning their attention back to the villainous duo. "Question…" Trish began, raising her index finger. She gestured at the brunette Diva. "Didn't you make this same speech two weeks ago—right before you got your BFF disqualified?"

Candice's smirk abruptly vanished, and she scowled furiously at the Canadian beauty seated in front of her. "No…" she shot back, her voice unconvincing and gradually trailing off into nothingness.

Trish's mouth twitched into a half-smile. "Whatever…I think you did."

Candice's lips pulled back from her teeth and Ashley almost expected her to hiss. "_Screw you,_" the brunette Diva spat.

"Hey, there's no need to get nasty," Ashley interjected from her vantage point near the makeup mirror. Three heads—two blond, one brunette—turned in her direction. The rookie Diva planted her hands on her hips, staring calmly back at Candice. "Trish just asked you a question—she didn't ask what you do with the rest of the roster in your free time."

Candice's mouth snapped closed, and she drew in a deep breath. Ashley could almost hear the air being sucked out of the room. "_Ha-fucking-ha_," the brunette Diva shot back through gritted teeth. She strode across the room, the click of her high heels on the concrete sounding like gunshots. "You're just a regular fucking comedian, aren't you?" She stopped right in front of Ashley, crowding the rookie Diva against the edge of the vanity counter. "Tell me," Candice continued, her voice now a sibilant purr. "Since we're talking about jokes…how's that loser boyfriend of yours doing?"

Ashley felt something inside her clamp its clawed hand around her heart, twisting and wrenching until she almost cried out in pain. _That _had been a low blow, and all of them knew it. Despite everything that had happened last night between her and Randy, it didn't alter the fact that she still really missed Matt and wished he was here. Last week, her boyfriend had lost his spot on the Raw roster thanks to a man he had once trusted and a woman he had once loved. That had been bad enough; the last thing Ashley needed was to endure Candice taking cheap shots at him, knowing that he wasn't there to defend himself. 

_Especially_ after what she had already endured last night.

The Diva Search winner pressed her hand against her side, her fingers curling into a fist. Over Candice's shoulder, she saw Trish rise warily to her feet, ready to step in should a fight ensue. Ashley swung her gaze back to the brunette Diva in front of her. She could feel the tension and hatred between them crackling in the air like electricity. The rookie Diva wanted nothing more than to bring her fist up into Candice's face, and hear the satisfying sound of cartilage cracking beneath her knuckles, but she didn't. Instead, she forced a smile onto her face, speaking as calmly as she could: "Me and Matt? We're fine; thanks for asking."

Candice's smirk didn't waver, and she cocked her head to the side, eying the Diva Search winner. "Are you _sure_?" the GoDaddy spokesmodel pressed. "I mean, after what happened _last _week, I'm surprised Matt can even stand to _look_ at you—"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Ashley interrupted, a warning creeping into her voice. The question was unnecessary; she already suspected what Candice was implying—and knew that she had to tread carefully.

Candice shrugged innocently. "_Nothing_…" Her dark eyes bore into Ashley's blue-green ones, her gaze full of malice. The brunette Diva went on. "_Except…_from what _I _hear…Lita's not the only cheating skank on the Diva roster."

Ashley heard the hush of another collective breath being sucked in. Her chest grew tight, and it took an extreme effort just to get her body to take in another lungful of oxygen. Her pulse was booming in her ears, drowning out everything else. Down at her side, her fingernails dug into her palm, hard enough to break the skin, hard enough to hurt.

Last week, when Matt had thrown that note in her lap and accused her of adultery, the rookie Diva had known instinctively even then that Candice and Torrie were somehow responsible. And now, seven days later, here was Candice, practically admitting that she had slipped the note under Matt's door. Part of Ashley was angry, furious that the brunette Diva had stooped to attacking her through her boyfriend. Another part—a larger part—of her, however, was cautious. Trish still didn't know about the note's existence, and the Diva Search winner wasn't sure how she'd react if she ever found out. The Canadian beauty knew considerably more about Ashley's "relationship" with the Legend Killer than Matt did; it would be a lot harder, if not impossible, to convince her that it was nothing.

Besides, it didn't matter, because she had cut Randy out of her life, hadn't she? Better to forget him, or the words he had written, or the way it felt when he kissed her, and pretend that it had never happened. Better to forget that she loved him.

Because that was safer.

Because loving Randy _was_ dangerous.

Plus…could Candice have been any _less _subtle?

The Diva Search winner studied her rival's face for a few seconds without saying anything. Candice was on the verge of gloating, clearly certain that she'd finally managed to trap Ashley in a corner.

Well, the rookie Diva wasn't cornered just yet.

Ashley bit her lip, trying to look serious and wounded at the same time. "Don't you think that's a little harsh?" the Diva Search winner whispered. Candice's smirk widened and she tilted her head back a little, staring back at Ashley with obvious enjoyment. The rookie Diva continued, pushing back a lock of blond hair as she spoke. "I mean, aren't you being a little hard on yourself?"

At this, the brunette Diva's grin faltered, uncertainty marring her perfect features. Involuntarily, she took a step back, allowing Ashley to push herself off the edge of the makeup counter. But the Diva Search winner wasn't finished. She laced her hands together behind her back, straightening up a little. Blinking her blue-green eyes, she added one last comment, trying to make her voice sound as sweet and innocent as possible: "But don't worry, Candy—I'm sure not _everyone_ thinks you're a cheater."

Across the room, she heard Trish let out a stifled bark of laughter, but Ashley kept her gaze on the GoDaddy spokesmodel. A subtle mixture of confusion and awareness flashed across Candice's face, as she struggled to understand what the trap had been and how she'd managed to walk into it. Gradually, comprehension set in, as she realized just what Ashley had implied without saying a word.

The brunette Diva's dark eyes narrowed into small slits. "_You…bitch_," she growled, shooting out both of her manicured hands and catching the rookie Diva in the chest with a hard shove. Ashley stumbled backward, the edge of the counter digging into her lower back, but she quickly regained her footing, moving toward Candice and shoving her just as hard in return.

She never saw Trish or Torrie move, but all of a sudden, the Women's Champion was at her side, grabbing her arm and holding her back, while the Boise Bombshell did the same to Candice. The four Divas glared at each other, their loathing for one another so palpable that words were unnecessary.

The quartet was so immersed in their staredown that they didn't hear the door open; all four of them jumped when a soft but deliberate cough broke the silence. Candice whirled around, her scowl deepening when she saw that the newcomer was none other than Maria. "Oh, it's _you_,"

The backstage reporter merely blinked. "Sorry," She moved further into the room , her face a portrait of blank unwitting innocence. "Bischoff sent me here with a message." Maria looked at Trish, and her expression sobered a touch. "He said that tonight, during your title defense…Ash is banned from ringside."

"_What_?" the Women's Champion exclaimed, her words almost drowned out by the rookie Diva's "No fucking way!" Ashley stared incredulously at the backstage reporter, her mental fog blanketing her senses burned away by the heat of her anger. She had never really had reason to dislike Eric Bischoff, but right now, she was starting to loathe the man.

Candice hooted with laughter, her full lips curving upward in a smile of malicious glee. "Aw, poor Trish!" the brunette Diva crowed, stealing an approving glance at Torrie before turning her focus back on the Women's Champion. "Looks like you won't have your little sidekick to help you win the match this time—"

Maria whirled around, her serene expression never wavering. "And so are you two." she finished without missing a beat.

Candice's smirk vanished so suddenly and so completely that it looked like something out of a cartoon. Her face sagged in disbelief, her jaw dropping open. Next to her, Torrie blinked her azure irises a few times, her countenance just as dumbfounded. "_What_?" the two evil Divas exclaimed in almost perfect unison. The GoDaddy spokesmodel looked back at her blond counterpart, as though Torrie somehow possessed the power to repair the situation. The Boise Bombshell shook her head helplessly, her golden ringlets bouncing against her face.

"But—but—" Candice stammered, struggling for words. She turned back toward Maria, her face turning bright red with embarrassment and shock, her expression almost pleading. "_That's not fair_!"

"_Aw_!" Now it was Trish's turn to coo in mock sympathy. The Women's Champion held up her hand, rubbing her thumb and index finger together. "This is the smallest violin in the world, Candy—and it's playing a song just for _you_."

Ashley burst into giggles, clapping both hands over her mouth. Maria looked over her shoulder at the rookie Diva, rolling her eyes before giving Ashley a conspiratorial wink. The Diva Search winner grinned in reply, her depression over the Legend Killer finally forgotten in the hilarity of the moment.

* * *

Ashley stood in front of the monitor, watching Trish's match with critical interest. The rookie Diva was in the gorilla position, out of the way of backstage personnel, but close enough to the black curtain to dart out to the ring should trouble ensue. Eric Bischoff might have banned her from ringside _during_ the match, but he'd said nothing about _afterward_—and knowing Victoria, the Vicious Vixen would be more than willing to punctuate her defeat (or, God forbid, her victory) with a little additional physicality. The way Ashley saw it, she was just getting a head start in case shit hit the fan.

Besides, after the confrontation she'd had with Candice earlier, there was absolutely no way she was hanging out in the locker room by herself with Bitch Number One and Bitch Number Two.

Ashley steepled her hands together in front of her face, studying the digitized image of her mentor on the screen. She envied Trish's prowess in the ring, her ability to make moves look fluid and easy. Despite all she had learned from the Women's Champion, the rookie Diva knew that she was still shaky in the ring and until she gained a better grasp on the basics, she would always be little more than a liability to Trish.

On the screen, Victoria went for a clothesline, but Trish dodged it, deftly arching her body backward into the Matrish. The Vicious Vixen ground to a halt and turned around, but just as nimbly, the Women's Champion flipped her legs up into a handstand. Locking her ankles around Victoria's neck, she took the raven-haired Diva down with a head scissors. Ashley's eyes widened, and she patted her hands together in a silent show of applause.

"She's amazing, isn't she?"

The rookie Diva whirled around, startled by the voice that seemed to have come from right beside her. Her gaze felt on a young woman about her age, with long golden-brown hair and big brown eyes. She wore a red halter top and a white skirt, adorned with a belt that seemed to have been made out of fur. Her hair was pulled up into a side ponytail, like something out of the eighties. Just like Ashley had been a moment earlier, she was gazing intently at the television screen.

The Diva Search winner eyed her warily. Even after almost two months on the Raw roster, she was still very rarely approached by other Superstars—let alone strange girls who looked like they'd stepped out of a Cyndi Lauper video. The mystery woman looked up, nodding her head toward the monitor. "Trish, I mean. She's such an incredible champion—I wish I could be as good as her."

Ashley nodded slowly, her brain still trying to process who this could possibly be—and why she had felt compelled to talk to the rookie Diva. "Yeah…yeah, I hear ya." Almost immediately after the words were out of her mouth, Ashley wanted to kick herself for sounding so lame. She quickly looked back toward the monitor, trying to refocus on the match and forget how awkward this situation was rapidly becoming.

In the ring, Victoria had climbed to the top turnbuckle, intending to hit the Women's Champion with some sort of aerial offense, but Trish quickly cartwheeled into the corner, flipping up to lock the Vicious Vixen into the Stratusphere. The raven-haired Diva countered the maneuver, however; pulling Trish's legs down under her arms. Victoria jumped down to the mat, landing on her feet and locking the Canadian beauty into a double-leg Boston Crab at the same time.

Ashley winced. She knew that Trish had had recent issues with her lower back, and that it had been those same issues that had put her out of action for five months. And just like the viper that she was, Victoria was targeting said back in the hopes of achieving a win by submission. The Women's Champion's face was contorted with agony as the Vicious Vixen mercilessly dragged her out to the center of the ring. _C'mon, Trish…_Ashley silently pleaded. _Don't give in…not to her…not like this…_

It was as though Trish had heard her, because somehow, the Canadian beauty was able to reverse the hold, flipping a surprised Victoria over into a pinning combination. Referee Mickey Henson was on the mat beside the pair, slamming his hand down on the canvas.

1…2…

The Vicious Vixen shot her left shoulder up, shoving the Women's Champion off her. Trish gingerly got to her feet, swinging her right leg toward Victoria's head to nail her with the Chick Kick. Just as rapidly, though, the raven-haired Diva was on her feet, blocking the kick. She hit Trish in the face with a hard right, and then, while the Women's Champion was reeling from the blow, nailed her in the back with another right.

Ashley cringed, turning away from the monitor and running both hands through her hair. She hated this feeling of powerlessness; standing back here, watching Trish get brutalized, knowing that she couldn't do anything to stop it. It was like a nightmare, where she could see the danger barreling toward her, but couldn't run away or even scream—only this nightmare was worse, because she was forced to observe it happening to someone else.

But covering her eyes wasn't going to change anything, so the Diva Search winner grudgingly turned back toward the screen, bracing herself for the worse. Victoria had pulled Trish up, jamming the Women's Champion's head between her thighs in preparation for the Widow's Peak. As the rookie Diva watched, Trish somehow bit back the pain and straightened up, using the momentum to flip Victoria over her back onto the mat in a pinning combination. The Vicious Vixen screeched and struggled, but was unable to lift either shoulder off the mat before Mickey Henson completed his three-count.

Ashley let out the breath she had unconsciously been holding in a low sigh of relief. Trish's title was safe for another week—and she had won her match clean, so the harpies couldn't cry foul this time. _Not that they had any reason to LAST time…_she thought to herself. _THEY caused the DQ, not me…_ The rookie Diva glanced over, and realized that the mystery woman was still standing next to her, both hands clasped together in front of her face, her expression just as relieved as Ashley's.

The Diva Search winner felt a twinge of conscience. Just because this chick was giving off a weird vibe didn't give Ashley any excuse to be rude. So she was a big fan of Trish's, what was wrong with that? It was obvious that she was just as relieved about the match's conclusion as Ashley was. The rookie Diva smiled uncertainly. "Sorry about that," she began. "It was just…" She trailed off, nodding her head toward the screen.

The mystery woman glanced up, her face lighting up in a warm smile that made Ashley instantly want to like her. "Oh, no, I totally understand; it's cool!" she exclaimed brightly. She glanced back and forth, before focusing her brown eyes back on the Diva Search winner again. "Look, I feel like I got us off to a weird start." The mystery woman stuck out her hand. "I'm Mi—"

Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley caught a flicker of movement. She turned toward the monitor, her blue-green irises widening in shock. In the ring, Trish had accepted her title belt from the referee and tentatively gotten to her feet—only to have a clearly enraged Victoria send her right back down to her knees with a vicious kick to the spine. As the rookie Diva watched in horror, the Vicious Vixen stomped on Trish's back a second time. Then a third.

Ashley slowly shook her head, the dismay in her expression already transforming into cold rage. "Fuck." she muttered between gritted teeth. She looked back at the mystery woman, holding up both her index fingers. "Hold that thought; I'll be right back." Pushing past her, the Diva Search winner barreled toward the black curtain, shoving it aside and dashing out onto the Titantron.

For just a moment, the lights blinded her, and all she saw was a wash of white. But Ashley's eyes rapidly readjusted; the blurs of color and movement before her reverting back to the gleaming white canvas surrounded by a sea of faces. She could see the familiar figure of the Vicious Vixen standing triumphantly in the center of the ring, admiring her handiwork. Trish was huddled in the corner, one hand pressed to her lower back.

Ashley had no idea what she was going to do when she got to the ring; all she knew was that she had to help her mentor and friend. The Diva Search winner reached the squared circle, sliding under the bottom rope. Getting to her feet, she launched her slender frame at Victoria, latching onto the raven-haired Diva's back and locking her arm around the Vicious Vixen's throat in a headlock. The rookie Diva screamed wordlessly, her pretty features distorted with rage and hate.

Ashley wasn't even really thinking at this point; it wasn't until she felt Victoria grab a handful of her hair that the rookie Diva realized she was in trouble. With hardly any effort, the Vicious Vixen brutally snapmared her over her shoulder onto the mat. As Ashley's body connected, she experienced a brief second of total numbness, followed by excruciating pain that ripped through her neck and spine. The rookie Diva gasped, too consumed by agony to will her limbs back into responsiveness. She rolled over onto her side, trying to push her hair out of her eyes. Victoria's boot slammed into her chest, knocking her back and driving the air out of her lungs.

Ashley stared dully up at the lights, bright spots of color obscuring her vision. She felt like she was suffocating; she seemed to be incapable of drawing oxygen into her body. That last kick felt like it had caved her chest in. _So much for backup_…the Diva Search winner thought vaguely. Any minute now, Candice and Torrie would come rushing out here, and the humiliation would commence…

She heard the roar of the fans change slightly; that subtle increase in pitch and volume that indicated a new player was making their way down the ramp. The canvas beneath her vibrated as someone slid under the ropes and ran toward her. Ashley tensed, bracing herself for the inevitable stiletto to the kidney area. But the footfalls continued right past her, and as the rookie Diva turned her head to the side to get a better look, she saw that the newcomer was a far cry from either Candice or Torrie.

The mystery woman from backstage was in the ring, hurling herself at Victoria, peppering her with forearms, punches, and kicks, driving the shocked Vicious Vixen back into the corner. Ashley blinked, wondering if she had hit her head harder than she thought. She had to be hallucinating this; it was too surreal to be actually occurring in front of her.

The mystery woman moved back a step or two, allowing Victoria to catch a breath and stagger cautiously out of the corner. Before the raven-haired Diva could muster any offense, the mystery woman regarded her coolly for a second before nailing her with a roundhouse kick to the abdomen that knocked Victoria through the ropes and out of the ring.

Despite her pain, Ashley almost wanted to smile. _Chick's got some moves…_she thought to herself. The mystery woman looked around her, her gaze lighting on the red-and-gold Women's Championship belt lying on the canvas, where Trish had dropped it following Victoria's sneak attack. Bending down, she scooped it up with both hands, and rose to her feet. She turned toward Trish—then abruptly dashed toward the ropes, where Victoria had recovered enough to climb up onto the ring apron. Swinging the title belt up, she caught the Vicious Vixen full in the face, sending her down to the floor for the second time.

Ashley pushed herself up onto one elbow, her features creasing in stunned bewilderment. She glanced over at Trish. The Women's Champion had pulled her body up into a sitting position, staring at the mystery woman with a countenance that mirrored Ashley's. As the rookie Diva watched, the mystery woman turned back toward Trish, giving Ashley her first really good look at their unexpected savior's expression.

To begin with, she was grinning from ear to ear, as though she'd somehow enjoyed what she had just done. Second, there was an eagerness in her expression as she gazed at the Women's Champion—no, it was more than eagerness. It was almost like…_adoration_. The kind of sick, twisted adoration that has crossed the line into full-blown obsession, that is. Ashley had thought that she seemed a little weird backstage, but this chick...this chick was downright manic.

_Holy shit…_the Diva Search winner mused incredulously. _She's a fucking nut…This chick is out of her fucking mind_…

The mystery woman advanced toward Trish, who must have had the same thought as her protégé, because she shrank back against the turnbuckle post. Her savior bent down, extending the title belt out in front of her reverently. After a moment or two of hesitation, Trish accepted it warily, staring up at the other woman as though expecting an attack similar to the one delivered to Victoria. But the mystery woman merely backed away, still grinning, holding out her hands palms-up as though trying to offer reassurance: _It's okay…I'm not as crazy as I look_…

_Maybe then you shouldn't be smiling like you need your dosage upped…_Ashley thought as she pushed herself up to her knees. Sitting back on her haunches, she stared dumbly as the mystery woman exited the ring and backed up the ramp, her gaze still fixed on Trish. The fans' cheers were a confused jumble; it was obvious that they were just as confused as the two Divas in the ring.

The rookie Diva stole another glance back at Trish, checking to make sure she was all right, and then looked down at her lap, studying the black polish on her fingernails. Even as a pair, she and Trish had still been outnumbered, a handicap exaserbated even more by the Diva Search winner's lack of wrestling experience. On more than one occasion, Ashley had found herself wishing that they had just one other person on their side; one other individual watching their backs.

Maybe—after what she had just witnessed—she should have been more careful about what she wished for.


	24. Chapter 24: Psycho Bitch

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Since this was orginally part of Chapter 23, I decided to post it as soon as possible, esp. since the last chapter felt very unfinished. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this one. Peace!**

**Thank you to **iluvmycena, Souless666, Ashleymassarophan1, **and** Writinglove101 **for reviewing the last chapter! Thank you so much; you are AWESOME!

* * *

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Chapter 24: Psycho Bitch

Ashley hovered beside Trish, worry written across her pretty features. "Are you okay, Trish?" she asked, her tone filled with concern. She reached out to touch her mentor's arm. "Are you all right?"

The Women's Champion nodded, even though her agonized expression seemed to indicate otherwise. "Yeah…" she replied, the affirmative trailing off into a low hiss of pain. The Canadian beauty pressed one hand to her back—the target of the majority of Victoria's physical assaults—while with the other, she held onto her red-and-gold title belt.

The two Divas walked down one of the corridors leading out of the gorilla position. Equipment crates and stacked chairs lined both walls, but still, it was a welcome change from the cramped claustrophobic space behind the Titantron. Ashley glanced back the way they had come, fully expecting to see their psychotic savior to come sprinting down the hallway after them. She looked back at Trish, voicing the one thought she knew they both shared: "Who _was_ that?"

The Women's Champion shrugged helplessly. "I don't know—aw, my God!" Trish ground to a halt, clutching her back and hunching over in pain. Ashley moved to assist her, but the Canadian beauty waved her away, still grimacing. "No, no, I'm fine!"

The Diva Search winner opened her mouth to retort that from the way Trish was looking, she was pretty far from _fine_, when a new voice intruded on their conversation, uttering a cheerful: "Hi!"

Ashley froze for a second or two, praying that she was mistaken, that she had not just heard that greeting articulated by that voice. Next to her, she saw Trish tense as well, the same idea clearly running through her own mind as well. The two Divas turned almost in unison, their gazes locking onto the bright brown eyes of the mystery woman—or rather, as Ashley was quickly coming to categorize her, the psycho.

"Hi!" the psycho chirped again, taking a step toward the pair. She gestured at herself. "I'm Mickie James; I'm Raw's newest Diva!" Reaching out, she shook hands with Trish, then with Ashley, clasping the rookie Diva's palm between both of hers. Ashley nodded and forced a smile onto her face, while fighting the urge to peek over her shoulder to see if the men in white coats were anywhere close by. This chick, a _Diva_? There had to be some mistake; Raw definitely had its share of crazies, but _this…_

Mickie was still talking, babbling away with a bubbly exuberance that rivaled Maria's. "—just signed my contract last week; I'm _so _happy to be here! It's _so _nice to meet you!" This last sentence was directed at Trish, and once again, Ashley couldn't help but notice the utter devotion and adoration in her expression as she gazed at the Women's Champion.

She reminded the Diva Search winner of a puppy, fawning and eager to please, but there was a peculiar brightness in Mickie's eyes as she spoke, an odd light that hinted at something a little bit darker and a little bit scarier than mere admiration.

And from what Ashley had witnessed out in the ring…this particular puppy had teeth.

Trish, meanwhile, was staring at Raw's newest Diva warily, as though expecting Ashton Kutcher to leap out at any second. "Thanks a lot—" she managed to get out before Mickie cut her off again.

"Oh, you're welcome, you're welcome! Oh my gosh!" The psycho—even with a name to attach to her face, Ashley just couldn't quite stop thinking of her as such—fell silent, glancing from Trish to the Diva Search winner and back again. She twisted her hands together in front of her, as though trying to prevent herself from reaching out and touching one of the other Divas.

The Women's Champion was the one to break the momentary silence, peering closely at Mickie. "Mickie James? Why do I feel like I _know_ that name—"

"I mean, I'm, like, your biggest fan!" Raw's newest Diva blurted out, cutting off Trish yet again. She gestured wildly with both hands. "I've written you, like, a _gazillion_ times!" The Canadian beauty started to say something else, but Mickie kept talking. "I _know_ you don't have time to write me back—it's okay! You're very busy; you're the _Women's Champion_! But it's _super nice_ to meet you!"

Mickie paused long enough to gulp down a breath before continuing on. "I mean, I _idolize_ you, Trish, I _love _you—"

"Thanks—" Trish interjected awkwardly, the rest of her sentence drowned out by Mickie's babbling: "—and I want to be _just_ like you!" Before either Diva could move to prevent her, she grabbed the Women's Champion in an affectionate embrace, kissing her on the cheek.

That was the image Ashley would always recall first when she thought of Mickie James: the brown-haired Diva grinning like a mental hospital escapee, her cheek pressed against Trish's, who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world, but obviously too shocked to shove Mickie away.

The Diva Search winner stepped forward, intending to intercede, when Mickie abruptly relaxed her grip on the Women's Champion, dropping her arms back down to her sides. Without so much as a goodbye or even a wave, she bounded off like some sort of hyperactive gazelle.

Trish remained frozen, still half-cringing. She blinked, a harsh sound that could have been either a cough or a laugh escaping her throat. "_What_…was _that_?" she finally said, her voice slightly strangled, as though she was trying to hold back her giggles.

Ashley could understand; the same brand of lunatic laughter was climbing up her own throat, making speech a cautious endeavor. Lunatic…now _there_ was a choice word to describe this situation. The rookie Diva shook her head, truly at a loss for words. "_That…_" she managed to say. "That was…_odd_." She glanced over at her friend. "Has she really written you a gazillion times? Do people still even _do_ that anymore?"

It was the Women's Champion's turn to shake her head in the negative. "I know I've heard the name 'Mickie James' mentioned before—but I have _no_ idea what that chick was talking about." She looked at Ashley, a smile touching the corners of her mouth. "What was up with her? God, I've never heard anyone talk that fast in my _life_! She made _Maria_ seem quiet. Can you believe that? _Maria_?"

"I _know_—" the Diva Search winner began to reply, but she never got the chance to finish when a new voice—one even more familiar and even less welcome—interrupted, erasing the smiles from both Divas' faces.

"I bet you think you're pretty fucking proud of yourself," Trish and Ashley turned to see Victoria storming down the hallway toward them, flanked on either side by Candice and Torrie. The Vicious Vixen halted in front of the Women's Champion, glaring and crossing her arms over her chest. "First, you _cheat_ to win, then you send your little groupie out to try and jump me while my back's turned—" The raven-haired Diva shot a disdainful glance Ashley's way before turning her attention back on Trish. "And then that psycho _bitch—_"

"Actually, her name's Mickie," the Canadian beauty interrupted lightly. All of the confusion and suffering had vanished from her countenance, leaving behind a steely calm. Trish took a step forward, bringing her almost nose-to-nose with the Vicious Vixen. "Mickie James. She's the new Diva here on Raw…and I'm pretty sure she won't appreciate you calling her a psycho." Her lips twitched in a half-smile. "You two seem to have started out on the wrong foot already."

Victoria's dark eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked as though she might take a swing at the Women's Champion. But just as quickly, the raven-haired Diva regained control of herself, settling for scowling at the Canadian beauty. "_Whatever_," she spat. "I wasn't the one who needed two other people to help me win a match—"

"What the _hell_ are you _on_?" Trish exclaimed incredulously. "In case you weren't paying attention—I didn't need _anyone's_ help to pin your shoulders to the mat, _in the middle of the ring_, in full view of the referee. And as for Ash and Mickie being there—" The Women's Champion's smile disappeared and she met Victoria's gaze with absolutely no intimidation. "They were just watching my back—all because _you_ decided to be a sore loser."

"In fact," Trish continued. "Since you seem to have trouble with counting, let me put it to you this way." She held up three fingers in front of Victoria's face. "There are _three_ of you…and now there's _three _of us. So if you're planning on any more post-match beatdowns, just remember…the numbers are equal this time. But you would never do that, would you, Vicky?" Trish's tone became faintly sarcastic. "You don't know _anything_ about using the numbers to your advantage." The Canadian beauty paused for a heartbeat or two. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the threat in her tone. "Face facts, Vic—_I_ won, _you_ lost, and if you have a _problem_ with that…I'm right here…only I'm not alone."

The Women's Champion turned toward Ashley, slinging an arm affectionately around her shoulders. She glanced back at the evil trio. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Ash and I have somewhere we need to be—somewhere that's _not_ around the three of you." Steering the rookie Diva around, Trish sauntered down the corridor with Ashley in tow. Victoria, Torrie, and Candice watched them go, all three silently seething. Just as the two Divas reached the corner to disappear out of sight, Ashley turned back in their direction. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she blew them a kiss, before waggling her fingers in a wave and mouthing "Bye!".

Identical frowns clamped down over the three heel Divas' expressions. For a long moment, none of them moved. Finally, Candice lifted her hand, tucking a dark curl of hair back behind her ear. Her movements were slow, deliberate. Torrie glanced at her cohort in crime, a concerned frown creasing her face. Whenever the GoDaddy spokesmodel acted like this, a full-fledged tantrum was usually on the horizon.

Candice's dark brown eyes were fixed on the hallway in front of them, on the spot where Ashley Massaro had stood just a few seconds ago. Her lips moved, but her voice was so soft that it took Torrie a while to decipher what she was saying: "I _know_ I slid it under his door, I _know _I did. I watched him walk in…" She sounded detached, as though she had forgotten the other two Divas were there. Torrie reached out to rest a comforting hand on Candice's arm.

The brunette Diva snapped her head to the side, her dark irises flashing with anger and loathing. She fixed her friend with a glare. "So why didn't it work, Tor? Huh? You said that if we did this, Matt Hardy would dump her skanky ass. So why didn't it work?"

"C'mon, Candy—" Torrie replied soothingly, but Candice Michelle was apparently past consoling.

"No!" She slapped the Boise Bombshell's hand away, whirling around and jamming her face into Torrie's. "That note should have fucking _buried_ her; why the _fuck_ is she walking around like nothing's wrong?" The GoDaddy spokesmodel took a step back, pointing at her friend accusingly. "This is all _your_ fault," she snapped.

Torrie's response was to smile sweetly, even though deep down, she felt like smacking the brunette Diva. "First of all," she began, reaching out to clasp both of Candice's shoulders. "_Language, please_. Second…" She paused for a moment, her smile becoming a little less sweet. "Don't worry about Ashley Massaro, okay?"

The Boise Bombshell leaned in closer, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. "Trust me…_I'll take care of her_."

* * *

Ashley walked slowly down the corridor, trailing her fingers along the ridges and grooves of the cinderblock wall. She wasn't sure where exactly she was in the AmericanBank center, but guessed that she was some distance from the arena potion; the roar of the fans had faded to a dull hum, in danger of being drowned out by the air conditioners. Here, the lights were dim, throwing everything around her into weird shadows and shapes, and with the exception on one lone technician she had passed a few minutes ago, the rookie Diva was alone.

Well, not _quite_ alone. As always, her thoughts reverberated in her ears; that little voice that was part conscience, part tormentor. It was her constant companion, simultaneously reminding her of the mistakes that she had made…and the ones she was in the process of making.

After everything that had happened tonight—Trish's victory, the "introduction" of that psycho, Mickie James—the Diva Search winner should have had more than enough reason to put her melancholia aside, at least temporarily. But for some reason, she was way out here, by herself, dwelling on dangerous notions she had no business thinking about.

Dwelling on the one guy she had no business thinking about.

Even during her happiest moments with Matt, Randy Orton had always been present in her mind, and right now (with no distractions in sight) was no exception. She couldn't get the memory of his face out of her head; that last expression of needy desperation written across his features as he stared at her—as though the rookie Diva was a temptation that the Legend Killer was trying futilely to resist. More than that, though, it was his eyes—those azure irises that had pierced her heart and her soul and somehow, after only a few seconds, had _known_ her. Those blue eyes that haunted her dreams when she slept.

_This is ridiculous…_the Diva Search winner thought to herself. _I barely know him…I don't understand him half the time…but I know that I love him…and I think he might love me…_

_Why is that?...Why am I falling for someone that I don't even get; that, sometimes, I'm not even sure that I LIKE?..._

_Why do I love him?..._

_Why?..._

"What's wrong with me?" Ashley whispered. She received no answer…but just for a second, she got the feeling that she wasn't alone. The rookie Diva stopped, listening hard. The only sounds that greeted her was the drone of the air conditioner, and beyond it, the faint cheers of the WWE fans. But yet…she could feel a chill gliding over her skin, and the little hairs on the back of her neck were standing straight up. Ashley cautiously moved forward again, her boots scraping softly against the concrete.

She never heard footsteps; all she felt was icy fingers clamped down on her upper hand, followed by someone spinning her violently around, forcing her up against the wall. A forearm pressed against her trachea, hindering her intake of oxygen. The Diva Search winner gasped for air, as she stared into the cold blue irises of Torrie Wilson.

The Boise Bombshell regarded her for a few seconds without emotion. Eventually, she pulled her arm back, allowing Ashley to suck in a grateful breath or two. The rookie Diva massaged her throat, glaring at her rival. "What the _fuck_—" she began, but Torrie cut her off, her tone clipped and terse.

"Your little act tonight might have fooled Candice—that girl's dumber than a bag of hammers." Torrie's mouth curled in a humorless half-smile, and she went on. "_But you can't fool me_."

She cocked her head to the side, blond ringlets bouncing, as she studied the Diva Search winner. "There's something going on between you and Randy Orton—something you don't want your friends or that pathetic boyfriend of yours to know about. _You_ know it_, I _know it—and pretty soon, everyone else will, too."

Ashley didn't say anything for several long moments. It wasn't that she was afraid of getting hurt—after all she had been through in her first two months, getting slapped around by Torrie wasn't a cause for concern anymore. No…what scared her was the fact that unlike Candice, Torrie _wasn't_ a bimbo. Unlike Candice, who delighted in making empty threats, Torrie's threats were far from empty. If she said that something was going to happen, chances were she would persist until it eventually occurred.

The rookie Diva remembered her first conversation with Torrie, when the Boise Bombshell had goaded her into that stupid dare. She remembered the calculating quality in her eyes as she spoke, the cold reptilian stare that belied her sunny smile. She remembered thinking that Torrie was probably more dangerous than she would let others believe. Well, Torrie was letting her believe right now. Torrie was _making sure _that Ashley knew just how dangerous she was.

Ashley knew that she was walking a fine line. One small slip, one tiny show of weakness, and the Boise Bombshell would attack like a shark smelling blood. But if there was one thing the Diva Search winner had learned in her short tenure with the WWE, it was to never let your enemies see just how afraid of them you really are.

The rookie Diva tilted her chin up, eying Torrie with what she hoped was haughty disdain. "That's quite an imagination you've got," she answered after a while. "You know that I'm with Matt."

Torrie laughed, a low chuckle that was almost a purr. "Hmmm…" she murmured. "You keep saying that," She moved a little closer, crowding Ashley against the wall. "Almost like you're trying to convince yourself." Her predatory smirk widened, and the Diva Search winner was once again reminded of the shark analogy. "See…when I found that note…_I_ knew it was real. And so beautifully written, too. Who would have thought that the Legend Killer could write like that? That he had a _heart_? I particularly loved that line at the end. You know, the one where he said that _you_ have his heart?" Torrie laughed again, malice oozing out of her like the subtle scent of perfume. "_How sweet._"

Ashley met her gaze without flinching, even though her throat was bone-dry and she was finding it difficult to swallow. Right now, she wanted to wrap both of her hands around Torrie's throat and squeeze. Squeeze until her eyes bulged out and her face flushed purple. But that would mean opening herself up. That would mean acknowledging that the Boise Bombshell was wounding her...and Ashley would have rather died than admit that.

Instead, the Diva Search winner matched Torrie's smirk with one of her own. "You're right," she replied. "That _is_ beautiful…I only wish I could have read it."

At this, Torrie's sneer vanished and she backed away, glaring balefully at the rookie Diva. Ashley slowly pushed herself off the wall, her eyes never leaving the other woman's. "Look…what's your problem with me, anyway?" the Diva Search winner snapped, her smirk evaporating as well. "I mean, I get Candice—she's just a whiny bitch—but _you_—"

Torrie giggled, the sound of it bright and mocking and terrifying all at the same time. "You mean, why am I the way I am?" The blond Diva shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe because I _can_…or maybe because…I just don't like you. You and all the other girls who think you can win a contest and do what I do."

Ashley started to interject and the Boise Bombshell held up her hand. "Yes, I'm aware that includes Candy. However…Candy also knows what it's like to be passed over for nobodies like you. Candy has _class_, while _you_…" She looked Ashley up and down, taking in her short gray dress, her fishnet stockings, her chunky-heeled boots. "_You _look like something they scraped off the road."

If Torrie was expecting her last comment to anger the rookie Diva, she was mistaken. Ashley actually had to bite back the sudden urge to laugh. She couldn't help it; the remark had been straight out of high school. And with the issues that were currently plaguing her personal life—one tiny comment about her appearance was not going to faze her.

Torrie must have sensed this, because she suddenly scowled, her azure irises narrowing. "You must think you're safe—just 'cause you've got the Women's Champion and some nutcase watching your back. But that could change, sweetie." She moved nearer to Ashley, planting her hand on the wall and leaning in close. Her voice was soft, but the rookie Diva had no trouble making out the words. It was so unsettling, hearing these phrases uttered in that sweet Midwestern tone. "That could change…_and sooner than you think_."

"Then bring it." the Diva Search winner retorted, her tone just as low and just as icy as Torrie's. She met the other Diva's eyes, hiding how unnerved she was by the lack of emotion in Torrie's gaze. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Hmm…" Torrie murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor for a second. When she glanced back up, the small smirk touching her lips had disappeared. "_Maybe you should be_." the Boise Bombshell whispered.

Ashley didn't move; not out of some display of courage, but because her muscles had locked up, rendering movement impossible. Her chest felt like it was compressing, crushing her lungs, making it hard for her to draw in breath. Torrie slowly drew back from her, taking her hand from the wall, and fluttering her fingers up and down once in a mockery of a goodbye wave. The villainous Diva turned away, sauntering down the hall.

The Boise Bombshell had only gone a few feet before she halted, rubbing her forearms briskly and muttering to herself. Ashley caught what she was saying, but she wouldn't recognize its significance until later: "Why the fuck is it so _cold_ back here?"

As soon as Torrie had vanished from sight around the nearest corner, the Diva Search winner slumped back against the wall, letting out her breath in a low sigh. Her eyes had drifted closed…so she didn't notice her breath emerging from her lips in a cloud of white vapor.

_Ashley…_

The rookie Diva's eyes flew open as the voice echoed in her skull; that harsh resonant whisper that seemed to vibrate her whole body. That voice that she had chalked up long ago as only a nightmare…or a figment of her imagination.

Ashley pushed herself off the wall, moving out into the center of the corridor. She looked all around her, but there was nothing. Nothing but equipment crates and chairs and shadows. No other person save for herself.

Somehow, Ashley wasn't surprised.


	25. Chapter 25: All Hallow's Eve

**A/N: I KNOW, this chapter is way too long in coming. What can I say? Writer's block is an ugly, ugly disease, and this chapter was one of those where I struggled and struggled to make it perfect. Even now, I'm not a hundred percent happy with it, 'cause I feel like I'm a little rusty, but, eh, it happens. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it; that's the important part.**

**Thank you to **Raven serotonin, Souless666, xAttitudex, Writinglove101, rory21, Batista Addicts **and **CerebralPrincess **for your reviews! You are...(dramatic pause)...AWESOME!

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Chapter 25: All Hallow's Eve

Ashley gazed into the mirror, adjusting the little black horns on her head. The rookie Diva took a step back, appraising her reflection. Low-cut silver corset, black bottoms, fishnet stockings peeking out of knee-high black boots—all in all, not too bad. All she needed now was her wings and her Halloween costume would be complete.

Three weeks had gone by, bringing with them yet another edition of Monday Night Raw. Tonight's broadcast from Anaheim had happened to fall on October 31, so the Raw Divas would be having their own version of a Halloween Costume Contest for the fans. The Diva Search winner knew that tonight's segment was little more than yet another opportunity for the overly hormonal male spectators in the audience to ogle a group of beautiful scantily-clad women, but still, she relished every opportunity that she got to entertain the fans. After all, they were the reason she was here.

Normally, Ashley loved Halloween, but in spite of her excitement, she couldn't quell a slight sensation of unease. For the last few weeks—ever since No Mercy—she'd been plagued by the eerie feeling that she was being watched. Of course, she'd never seen anyone or anything to back up this notion, but that didn't stop goosebumps from breaking out on her arms every time she went somewhere by herself. The rookie Diva knew that she was too old to still be believing in the boogeyman, but whenever she walked through a deserted parking garage or darkened hallway, she couldn't shake the idea that she wasn't alone; that someone else was waiting in the shadows, silently observing her every move…

"Hey, Ash! Great costume!"

The Diva Search winner turned, grinning at Maria as she stepped into the locker room. "Thanks! You too!" By sheer coincidence, the two Divas had elected to dress up as angels, though their costumes were far from similar. Maria, in her white tulle skirt and feathered white top, personified angelic, while Ashley's getup definitely represented a darker version.

Appropriate, since she had fallen for the bad boy.

Ashley quickly snatched the thought out of mid-air before it could crystallize in her mind. After three weeks, her life and her relationship with Matt had finally taken on some semblance of normality, and she was not going to let one random notion spoil her entire evening.

The rookie Diva headed for an adjacent bench, still talking as she walked. "I can't believe, though, that I'm actually wearing less clothing than _Candice_. I mean, when has that _ever_ happened?"

Maria giggled. "I wouldn't worry about it. I just saw Candice in the bathroom in her Catwoman outfit, crawling around on the floor. Did you know she's actually planning on crawling down the ramp on all fours tonight?"

"That shouldn't be too hard for her," Ashley replied. "Candice on her knees, in a cat suit…that's pretty much every Friday night for her."

This comment made the backstage reporter laugh even harder. "Yeah!" she answered when she was able to talk once more. "I bet she loves Halloween, because it's the one day out of the year where guys don't come up to her and ask her how much for an hour!" At this, Ashley cracked up as well, and a few minutes elapsed before both Divas were able to get themselves back under control.

Maria looked back up at the rookie Diva, her expression sobering a touch. "Speaking of costumes, I saw Mickie's and I have to say…I'm a little freaked out."

Ashley's smile faded and she glanced down toward the bench. "I hear ya," she replied after a long pause.

"I mean," the backstage reporter continued. "It's one thing to say you're Trish's biggest fan—but it's another to actually _dress up_ like her for Halloween." She peered at Ashley, her green eyes narrowing a little. "Ash, you're around her more than I am. Between the two of us…is she really as crazy as she seems?"

The Diva Search winner shrugged, bending over to pick up her black-feathered wings. She looked down again, fidgeting with one of its straps for several seconds before shrugging. "I don't know," she finally admitted.

Ashley wasn't trying to evade the question; she truly didn't have an answer. There was no doubt that Raw's newest Diva was incredibly talented in the ring, and with her addition to Trish and Ashley's partnership, the evil triad had wisely kept their torments (on and off television) to a minimum. Plus, there were times when Mickie was actually sweet and laid-back and fun. But inevitably, the manic exuberance and crazed enthusiasm she had displayed during her debut always eclipsed these glimpses of genuine personality, leading the rookie Diva to the conclusion that Mickie must be missing a few screws upstairs.

Either the new Diva was completely insane—or she was smarter than she looked, playing the crazy card to throw everyone around her off-balance. Whatever the case might be, Ashley found that she just couldn't bring herself to trust Mickie James.

There was a sudden knock at the door, startling both Divas. Maria frowned a little and headed over to answer it, her feathered high heels making little clicking sounds on the cement floor. Ashley turned back toward the row of shelves behind her, concentrating on slipping her arms through the shoulder straps of her wings. It wasn't her job to gauge Mickie's sanity…especially when, lately, she seemed to be going a little crazy herself.

"Ash!" The Diva Search winner turned at the sound of her friend's voice. Apparently done conversing with whoever had been at the door, Maria was now walking back toward Ashley, an enormous grin lighting up her pretty face. "Present for you!"

Ashley's brows came together in confusion, and it took her a second or two to realize that Maria was holding something. Nestled in the other Diva's arms was a sizable bouquet of flowers, wrapped in green paper. A closer look told her that the blossoms were roses, their petals a vivid hue of magenta. Even though the rookie Diva was the farthest thing from a girly-girl, she still couldn't suppress a squeal of delight at the sight of the bunch of flowers. She rushed toward Maria, scooping up the bouquet and bringing it close to her face to inhale their soft scent. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. Ashley touched one of the roses, feeling its velvety softness beneath her fingertips. "There's no card…I wonder who they're from."

"_Duh_!" The Diva Search winner glanced back up. Maria rolled her eyes good-naturedly before mouthing "Matt!" At the mention of her boyfriend's name, Ashley felt a familiar pleasurable tingle ripple through her body. It was a sensation, though, that always seemed to bring with it just the slightest hint of pain, of longing—her heart's way of subtly reminding her that no matter how much she did care for the elder Hardy brother, their relationship was merely a compromise.

It was a compromise that she herself had made, because following her heart would have been too uncertain. And it was a compromise that she couldn't even hint at to anyone; not her friends…and _definitely_ not to Matt. Because she was treading along a razor's edge; one wrong move, one wrong look at the wrong person at the wrong time—and everything she had built up for herself would be destroyed.

Besides, Matt was funny, he was cute, he was sweet, and he genuinely loved her—which was a hell of a lot more than she could say about _some_ people.

The rookie Diva realized that Maria was still talking to her, and rapidly brought her thoughts back to the present. "I mean," the backstage reporter added, unaware of Ashley's mental zone-out. "Who _else_ would they be from?"

Those last six words were uttered in a teasing tone, and were clearly meant as a joke, but nevertheless, Ashley felt something inside her falter and she flinched a little bit. "Yeah," the Diva Search winner replied slowly, hoping that the dread and uncertainty gripping her insides wasn't registering on her face. "Who else?"

_Who else?..._

Her entire body had gone numb; she could no longer feel the rose petals against her fingers or even the floor beneath her feet. Ashley quickly turned and walked over to the makeup counter, setting the bouquet down next to her flatiron before she could drop it. Her head swam with dizziness, the world in front of her eyes inverting itself, and she knew with an awful sense of certainty that if she didn't leave this room right now, she was either going to throw up or pass out. Or both.

"Excuse me, 'Ria," she said, her voice sounding calm, collected, and completely alien to her own ears. "But I have to go pee. I'll be right back." She heard Maria's confused "Sure, Ash—" as though from a great distance, but didn't stay to hear the rest; she was already barreling out the door.

* * *

As soon as she was out in the hall, away from the questioning gaze of Maria, Ashley took a few deep breaths, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. Her nausea had lessened; she could still feel it lurking at the back of her throat, but the urge to puke was no longer so immediate.

The rookie Diva looked up, her vision beginning to steady as she took in the familiar sights of equipment crates and chairs pushed against cinderblock walls, of people (Superstars and backstage personnel) going about their various tasks. But even though Ashley had regained control over her own state of physical consciousness, she still couldn't quell the anxiety clamping down on her stomach.

Maria had just been joking; of _course_ Matt had sent her the flowers. He was her _boyfriend_, for crying out loud; that's what boyfriends _did_. So why was she freaking out? Why was she out here in a crowded hallway, on the verge of a panic attack, over some comment that was completely innocuous?

Maybe because Maria's remark—as innocent as it had been—had been a reminder that despite Ashley's better efforts, the Diva Search winner still had unfinished business…

Ashley was so lost in her own mental turmoil that she shrieked when two hands came down to rest on either side of her neck. She spun around, nearly clipping the other person with her wings.

Matt jumped back, narrowly avoiding contact with the feathered costume piece. "Whoa, watch where you swing those things!" he exclaimed. "You're gonna put someone's eye out!"

For a single instant, Ashley's mind went completely blank with shock. Then, as reality reasserted itself and she realized that her boyfriend was standing right in front of her, Ashley's astonished countenance turned to one of elation and she rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Matt? Oh my God, you scared me so bad!"

The elder Hardy brother chuckled, slipping his arms around her waist to draw her closer against him. "Sorry, baby girl, but I have to admit: if this is what I get for scaring you, I ought to sneak up on you more often."

The rookie Diva pulled back a little, trying to look indignant and hold back her laughter at the same time. "You jerk!" she replied, swatting his arm playfully. She studied his face, drinking in the warmth and affection radiating from his gaze. "Matt, what are you—"

That was all she got out before Matt ducked his head down, capturing her mouth in a kiss, and for several long seconds, the Diva Search winner was effectively silenced. Gradually, they broke apart, and Matt placed a gentle kiss on his girlfriend's forehead. "I missed you, Ash," he murmured.

Ashley closed her eyes, pressing her body just a little bit closer to his. "I missed you, too." she whispered. After a moment or two, she tilted her head up to meet her boyfriend's eyes. "Seriously, Matt—what are you doing here?"

The elder Hardy brother shrugged. "Just backing up my buddy Rey tonight in his match against that walking 'roid freak, Chris Masters." Over the past few weeks, Raw and SmackDown had been engaged in a bit of a brand war, ever since a resentful Eric Bischoff had turned the lights out during a SmackDown six-man tag match at Raw's Homecoming. After that, SmackDown Superstars had been crashing Raw, Raw Superstars had been crashing Smackdown, and tonight, the two brands would be represented in an interpromotional match between Rey Mysterio and the self-proclaimed "Masterpiece".

Matt went on. "The way I see it—I'm just returning the favor to Bischoff for sticking me in that 'Loser Leaves Raw' debacle." He glanced down fondly at the rookie Diva. "So who are you rooting for tonight? You going to be loyal and pull for Raw?"

Ashley made a derisive noise in the back of her throat. "_Please_. My first day here, Chris Masters tried to hit on me, and I almost threw up in my mouth. I may be a _Raw_ Diva, but trust me…" She took hold of Matt's shirt, pulling him closer to her. "My heart belongs to SmackDown." she finished.

The SmackDown Superstar laughed, but Ashley could hear the desire lurking at the edges of his voice. "That's why you're my girl," he answered. "And you are…without a doubt…the _sexiest_ angel that I have ever seen."

"Hmm…" the rookie Diva murmured. She trailed her finger down his chest suggestively. "You think I'm an angel _now_…but wait until later tonight."

Matt didn't say anything at first, but Ashley could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. "Ashley Massaro, are you hitting on me?" the elder Hardy brother whispered, his tone husky with need.

The Diva Search winner tiptoed up until her lips grazed his. "_Maybe_." For a moment, they remained like that, then Ashley pulled back, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "_So…someone_ delivered a bunch of roses to the women's locker room—"

"Yeah, I wondered about that!" Matt interjected, cutting her off. "I passed the intern who was carrying them in the hallway earlier, and I wondered who they were for." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "If you ask me, Helms finally couldn't stand it anymore and decided to tell Maria how he feels about her. I swear to God, if this guy was still in elementary school, he'd be passing notes that say: 'Do you like me? Check Yes or No.'" The elder Hardy brother laughed. "If I see him in the locker room, I am gonna bust him _so bad_…"

Matt's mouth was still moving, words were still coming out of his mouth, but Ashley could no longer hear them. It was as though a veil had been dropped over her, shutting her off from the rest of the world. Her heart was beating wildly, slamming against her ribs, and as she stared up at her boyfriend, a kind of awful clarity came over her, bringing with it the terrible but unmistakable truth: _Matt hadn't sent her the flowers._

And if Matt hadn't sent the flowers, then that left only one other person. One other man in her life who cared enough to send her a bunch of roses…

The rookie Diva kept the smile on her face, even though it hurt like hell. The lightheaded feeling rushed back in, making her head spin, making her feel as though she had been abruptly severed from the laws of physics and left to float off into oblivion. Her stomach churned, and when she swallowed, she could taste hot bile at the back of her mouth.

Matt, meanwhile, was still talking about Helms and Maria, completely unaware that his girlfriend had suddenly gone mute with horror, or that her face was a few shades paler than it had been a second ago. "Listen, baby girl," he remarked. "I've got to go meet up with the other SmackDown guys, but I'll see you later, okay?" He leaned down, kissing her quickly on the lips. "Love you."

All of Ashley's responses were automatic; she was operating purely through reflex at this point. "Yeah," she managed to say as Matt strolled off to locate his compatriots. "Love you, too."

* * *

The hallway was dim and deserted, but for once, Ashley was glad that it was that way. Right now, she couldn't even breathe; no matter how much oxygen she tried to draw into her lungs, it didn't seem sufficient to sustain her. The Diva Search winner stopped, pressing her face to the cool textured surface of the wall. Tears were stinging her eyes, gathering on her lower lashes and blurring her vision, and it was taking every modicum of self-restraint she possessed not to break down and cry.

Why had he waited until _now_, when the orbit of her world was finally returning to normal? Why was he still trying, when she had made it clear that he had lost his chance? Why wouldn't he leave her alone, when it was clear that they could never be together?

Ashley realized in that instant that as much as she loved Randy, she also hated him with an equal amount of intensity. The rookie Diva balled her hand up into a fist, slamming it against the wall. "Fuck." she spat. She hit the wall again, harder this time. "_Fuck_!" She tried for a third blow, but her strength abruptly left her, and her knuckles merely grazed the wall. Ashley let her hand fall limply to her side, the first tears rolling down her cheeks. "I hate you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I hate you…"

_Ashley…_

The Diva Search winner felt her heart stop. She looked around, but as always, the corridor was empty. But yet, Ashley could felt the unnatural intense cold slithering over her skin like an icy mist, all while that _voice_ continued to resonate in her head.

_Ashley…_

The rookie Diva squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face against the wall. "You're not real," she whispered, her voice shaking, teetering on the brink of full-blown panic. "You're not real, you're not real—"

_SILENCE…_

The voice boomed in her head, nearly deafening her, and Ashley obeyed. Icy fingers gripped the back of her neck, almost hard enough to hurt, and she gasped. The cold filled her body, driving out the warmth, turning her blood to ice. The Diva Search winner began to cry, almost expecting the tears to solidify on her face. "Please…" she pleaded through chattering teeth. "Please…leave me alone."

The fingers on her neck suddenly released their grip, and for a heartbeat, Ashley thought that her invisible tormentor had departed. But then she felt the fingers graze her cheek, their touch as light and gentle as a caress, but with none of the physical warmth that such a gesture normally brings. And she heard the voice again, speaking in that same drawling emotionless intonation:

_THIS…is only the beginning…_

The chill abruptly dissipated as a warm hand gently grasped her shoulder, followed by a tentative voice: "Ash?" The rookie Diva whirled around, once again nearly nailing the other person with her wings. Ashley clapped both hands over her mouth. "Oh my God, Matt, I'm sorry…" Her voice trailed off into silence as she gradually realized that the person staring back at her was the farthest person in the world from Matt Hardy.

Randy Orton wore a loose blue button-up shirt over khakis, one hand shoved into his pants pocket, the other was still stretched out toward Ashley. For several long seconds, the Legend Killer and the Diva Search winner regarded one another, before Randy broke the silence, lowering his hand back down to his side. "Hey."

"Hey." Ashley replied, literally at a loss for anything else to say.

The former World Heavyweight Champion studied her for a few more moments, his brow creasing in concern. "Ash, what's wrong—" he began.

"It's nothing," the rookie Diva interjected tersely, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "I'm fine."

"You're not _fine_!" Randy shot back. He moved toward her, reaching out as though to embrace her. "Look at you—you're terrified. What happened—"

"Don't _touch_ me! I _told you_, it's _nothing_!" Ashley shied back from the Legend Killer's touch, her voice rising in volume until it was practically a scream. Randy halted, a mixture of emotions fighting for dominance on his handsome face. It was clear that he was torn between obeying her command and following his own desire to comfort her. His azure eyes were on her face, but as he stood there, his gaze moved lower, making a subtle sweep over her body. Ashley could feel the weight of his stare against her skin, and for the first time, she was aware of just how little clothing she was actually wearing. She crossed her arms over her chest, painfully cognizant of just how similar this situation was to the first time she and Randy had met…and how much things had changed.

Back then, he had been her only friend. Now…he was the last person she wanted to see.

The Diva Search winner glared at Randy, glad at least that she didn't have to fake her ire. Just looking at him made her head swim with a confused jumble of about twenty different emotions…but anger was definitely one of them. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, her voice low but harsh.

The Legend Killer flinched a little at the iciness of her tone. His eyes slid away from hers, focusing on the patch of floor next to her feet. He hesitated for only a second before answering her…but it was just a second too long. "I'm here for Rey's match, that's all," he replied. However, there was no conviction in his voice, and his gaze never once budged from the floor.

"Bull_shit_!" Ashley shot back fiercely, feeling her face flush with emotion. She started to move forward, but quickly stopped herself. The closer she got to him, the harder it would be to resist him—and if he succeeded in putting his hands on her, it would be all over. The only way to hold onto her rage would be to keep her distance; otherwise, her anger would evaporate like snow in sunlight.

The rookie Diva locked her knees in place, moving her feet a little bit apart as though toeing an imaginary line. She hugged herself even tighter, cursing Creative and their stupid costume contest. This conversation would be so much easier if she was fully clothed. "For once, look me in the eye and tell me the goddamn _truth_. I _know_ you sent me the flowers—_so why are you here_?"

Randy stiffened, and Ashley saw a cold resolution creep over his features. He looked up, locking eyes with her, and the Diva Search winner had to stifle a gasp. Randy's countenance was impassive, but his eyes burned with intensity and need; flames of blue fire flickering out from behind a face as unyielding as granite. "I came here to see you," he finally said. His voice was tight, strained, as though uttering each word was a strenuous endeavor. "Are you _happy_? Is _that_ what you wanted to hear? I came here because I wanted to see you…because I _had_ to see you."

Ashley stared back at him, unable to speak. A tsunami of emotion was gathering strength inside her; any moment, it would break over her and any self-control she still possessed would be washed away in the flood. Then it _did_ crash, with a roar that only the rookie Diva could hear, and Ashley felt something inside her give way. Her lips moved, spitting out words that she could barely hear through the throbbing sensation in her head: "Fuck you."

Randy flinched again, his stony expression faltering for an instant. "Ash, listen—" he began, but the Diva Search winner kept talking, her words tumbling out over one another.

"No, _you_ listen, you fucking asshole!" Ashley began to pace, all while staying on her side of the invisible line. "You can't _do_ this! You can't just show up one day with a few roses and expect everything to change! It doesn't work like that!" She paused for a second, taking in a few deep breaths. "I gave you a chance, okay? I gave you a _million_ chances—and every time I tried to get close, you pushed me away. But now, when I've _finally_ found someone else, someone who _loves_ me, you decide to show up and pretend that you care."

"Ash—"

The rookie Diva rushed on, trying to hold back tears of indignation. "I'm with Matt now—I don't know what else I have to say to you to get that through your head. I mean, do I have to start describing our _sex life_ in detail before you'll finally get it? What you and I had—what we _could_ have had—it's over. Don't you understand?"

"Ashley—" Was that a note of irritation in the Legend Killer's voice?

"I mean," Ashley was almost crying at this point, but she didn't stop. Every emotion she had held back, all the pain and suffering she had hidden behind a smile and a quick quip for the last several weeks, was pouring out of her now and there was nothing she could do to deter it. "I'm a fucking _human being_; I'm not a _yoyo_! You can't _treat_ me like this—"

Her furious rant ended in a startled yelp as Randy closed the distance between them, grabbing hold of her upper arms and pulling her to him. He leaned down, his face only inches from hers, his azure eyes smoldering. He wanted her; Ashley could see it in his gaze, could feel it in the way he held her. He wanted her—but he was holding himself back with every ounce of self-restraint that he possessed. The Legend Killer leaned even closer, and for one terrifying second, the rookie Diva thought that he was going to kiss her, but instead, he started talking, spitting out each syllable with a tightly controlled fury: "For once, would you _please_ _shut up_ and let me finish a goddamn _sentence_?"

Ashley was so surprised that her mouth snapped shut. Randy went on, his deep voice husky with emotion. "I _know_ that I'm an asshole, all right? I _know _that. I treated you like shit, and you deserved a lot better than what I gave you." He hesitated for a second, affording her a second glimpse of the raw pain simmering behind his emotionless expression. "There are…_things_…in my life…things that I've done…that I can't tell _anybody_…not even you." His eyes bored into hers again; he almost seemed to be pleading with her. "But I am _trying_, Ash. I'm _trying_ to make you understand—"

"Understand what?" the Diva Search winner interjected bitterly. "That deep down, you don't care about anyone except yourself? That the only thing that matters to you is your goddamn career, your goddamn _legacy_?" Her voice cracked again. "That I'm just another Diva to you; just another _notch_ in your _belt_? That all you want to do is _fuck _me and—"

She saw the Legend Killer squeeze his eyes shut for a second in pain and stopped, vaguely aware that she might have gone too far. After a moment or two, the rookie Diva continued, her tone slightly gentler this time. "Look, why me, okay? There are a million other girls out there who would _kill_ to be with you—why are you wasting your time with me? I'm just a useless little punk rock chick; what makes me so special?"

"Because you're _different_!" Randy shot back vehemently. The passion behind those three words was so intense that Ashley had no other recourse but to shut her mouth a second time. The third-generation Superstar continued. "Because when I'm with you…I don't know, it's like things make _sense_!" Randy glanced down for a moment, lowering his voice. "Look, I'm not a good guy, okay? I've _never_ _been_ a good guy. I'm a piece of shit, and I deserve to be alone. But when I look at you—" He looked up, transfixing her with those blue eyes once more. "I realize that I don't _have_ to be. That I don't _want _to be." The Legend Killer relinquished his grip on her arms, reaching up to touch her face, resting his palm against her cheek. His touch burned; Ashley could feel it searing her skin. She felt an odd sensation, as though fireworks were exploding in her stomach. Randy was still talking; his mouth so close that his breath caressed her face. "I _care_ about you…and I think, even though I've been a complete shithead, that you feel the same way about me." A pause. "I _know_ you do."

Ashley couldn't speak. Her mouth and brain seemed to have been stricken completely incapable of forming words. The silence stretched out between her and Randy, and with it, the two paths available to her. Here was a chance to follow her heart, to say "Screw you" to everyone else and choose what would make _her_ happy. But could she really do that? To Trish? To _Matt_? Could she truly turn her back on everyone and everything and forge ahead on her own path?

Besides, even though she had instinctively known from the first moment she had met Randy Orton that she was meant to be with him—who was to say that being with him was the _right_ choice?

Three weeks ago, she had thought that she had finally made her decision. Well, she had been wrong. _This _was the genuine moment of truth for her, the point where she would have to walk through one door and not just shut the other, but _slam _it closed.

The Diva Search winner lifted her gaze, once again feeling that sensation of vertigo when her blue-green irises met Randy's azure ones. Her mouth was dry as dust, and it took a second or two before she was able to get the words out. "You always knew how I felt about you—but every time I gave you a chance, you just shut me out."

Randy lifted up his other hand, holding her face between his palms. "Ash, I'm sorry—" he started to say, but the rookie Diva waved her hand, shushing him.

"Please…let me finish." Ashley's voice was quiet, resigned. She took another deep breath. "So if you care about me; if you—"

_Love me…_

"—care," she finished lamely after a brief pause. "Then you'll prove it by doing something for me."

Randy moved closer, his face right above hers. Another step, and he would be close enough to seal her mouth in a kiss. "_Anything_." he whispered, and in that single word, Ashley heard everything: all his anguish, his desire—and above all, his _hope_ that somehow, she was his salvation.

The Diva Search winner lowered her lashes for an instant. This was it; she was standing at the edge of the cliff now. One more step, and there would be no going back. She lifted her gaze, meeting Randy's eyes and uttering three short words. And with those three words, she felt her heart shatter into a thousand fragile shards.

"_Leave me alone_."

The look of shock on the Legend Killer's face was so comical that it would have been funny in any situation other than this. Slowly, he drew his hands back from her face, staring at the rookie Diva with an expression rapidly transforming into disbelief. "_What_?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard, although it was pretty clear that he had heard every word.

"You heard me," Ashley replied, hoping she could get the words out before she burst into tears. "_Leave me alone._ No more flowers, no more surprise visits, no more…" She faltered, swallowing hard. "…no more _phone calls_. You don't know me, I don't know you, and this thing, this _relationship—_whatever it is—never happened."

Randy was already shaking his head, as though by doing so, he could deny the validity of what he was hearing. "Ashley, _please_, don't do this—"

"I _have _to do this!" Ashley felt like she was screaming, even though her voice was barely above a whisper. "I _have_ to…don't you understand? I can't have it both ways! I can't break Matt's heart—and as long as you're still in my life, I'm only going to break his heart!" She gestured at herself. "You say that _I _deserve better? Well…so does he."

"So…what?" the Legend Killer retorted, his tone bitter. "You're just going to ride off into the sunset with good 'ol _Matt Hardy_, and forget about what's between us?"

Just hearing Randy's derisive mention of her boyfriend's name made Ashley want to slap him, but she kept her temper in check, settling for glaring defiantly at the former World Heavyweight Champion. "As far as I'm concerned…there's _nothing _between us."

Randy leaned down, until she felt his lips graze her ear. "Now who's the fucking liar?" the Legend Killer murmured.

For one agonizing second, Ashley wanted to kill him. She literally wanted to rip his heart from his chest, and hold the still-pulsating organ up in front of his face, all while screaming: "See _this_? _This_ is what it feels like whenever you look at me!" But instead of acting on her murderous urges, she turned her head from his, shying away from his touch. "Whatever. This conversation is over."

She started to sidle around him, but Randy grasped her arm, yanking her back. "No, it's not," he muttered fiercely, and grabbing her face in both hands, he captured her mouth with his.

Ashley wanted to struggle, wanted to break free, but she couldn't; her body was rebelling against her. Instead of struggling, she was kissing him back; instead of pushing him away, she was entwining her arms around his neck, pulling him against her as she returned the kiss. And then Randy was pulling away, his hands still on her face. He was breathing hard, his gaze sweeping across her face. The rookie Diva could feel the sexual tension and desire crackling in the air between them like electricity.

As though he was reading her thoughts, the Legend Killer smiled. "You feel it, too, don't you? What's between us. Don't you get it, Ash? This is more than just a crush." He moved closer, until his mouth was almost touching hers. "You're in this thing as deep as I am…and you don't want it to go away any more than I do."

"But it's going to go away," Ashley was barely aware that she was talking; her head was still spinning from that last kiss. "It's going to go away—because _I love him._" That was the trump card, the ultimatum, the one thing she knew would end this thing once and for all. Randy visibly flinched, but the Diva Search winner kept going, no longer caring how harsh she sounded, no longer caring how nasty she was being, only knowing that she was tired, _she was so fucking TIRED of this_—

"You wanted to know, so now you do; _I love him_." She moved back a step, but only so she could look the Legend Killer in the face. "_I love him_—and we're going to make it work." Randy looked away. Already, his face was shutting down, his eyes were shutting down, sealing his emotions behind a blank indifferent mask. Instantly, Ashley regretted her choice of words, but she couldn't take it back, not anymore. There was nothing left to do but end it. "This is just a Halloween costume, Randy. I'm not your _savior_. I can't _save_ you." She peered hard at his handsome face, her blue-green eyes narrowing. "You can't even save yourself."

With that, she knew that there was nothing more to say, so she stepped around the frozen form of the Legend Killer, walking rapidly back down the hallway without looking back. She had nearly reached the end when she heard the crash, as though a stack of chairs had been knocked over. But there was no yell, no cry, no grunt of pain or anger to indicate that a human being had been responsible.

Only silence…

Silence…

Silence…

* * *

Randy sank down to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Chairs were scattered around him, the victims of his one-man rampage, but the Legend Killer didn't care. They were inanimate objects; they didn't care. They couldn't feel pain, or heartache…or loss.

He couldn't describe the agony he was feeling right now; it seemed incapable of being expressed in words. The one thing he was sure of was that he had a heart. He'd spent years thinking that he didn't have one, that he was unable to feel, but now he knew for sure that he did have one—because it was being torn to pieces within his chest.

Randy looked up sharply, unsure if he was no longer alone or if his half-crazed mind was merely playing tricks on him. "You happy now, old man?" he demanded to the deserted corridor. "Huh? This what you wanted? Are you happy now, _you son of a bitch_?" There was no answer—not that he'd really expected one.

The Legend Killer leaned back against the wall, his blue eyes drifting closed once more. "God_damn_ you," he whispered, in a voice too exhausted to hold any real malice. "God_damn _you to hell…"

* * *

Maria looked up as the locker room door swung open, her face lighting up when she saw that it was Ashley. "_That_ has _got_ to be the world's longest pee," she declared, her mouth curving into a playful smile. Her remark was greeted with silence, and the backstage reporter looked over at the Diva Search winner a second time, her grin fading. "Ash? Are you all right?" Maria's green eyes narrowed, and she peered closely at her friend's face. "Have you been crying?"

"What?" Ashley appeared to have been lost in a trance, but she quickly snapped back to reality. "No, no, _This—_" She gestured at her face. "I got something in my eye—like an eyelash or something—and I was trying to get it out." The backstage reporter nodded, but still looked unconvinced. The rookie Diva decided to change the subject. "So, you ready to go?"

Maria glanced down at her costume, as though taking a mental inventory of her appearance. "Almost. I just need my halo, and then I'll be all set. Where did I leave it, anyway…" Her last sentence was directed at herself, as the backstage reporter meandered over to the makeup counter.

_Personally_…Ashley thought to herself. _I'd like to get out of this arena, out of this STATE…but I can't. I just have to smile and wave and pretend that my life isn't one giant clusterfuck—_

Maria's shriek jarred her back to the present, and Ashley looked over at her friend, frowning in concern. "'Ria? What's wrong?"

The backstage reporter was standing stock-still in front of the makeup counter. One hand gripped her downy white halo, while the other was pressed against her mouth. Ashley glanced at her reflection in the mirror; Maria's eyes were so big that a line of white was visible all the way around her emerald irises.

The Diva Search winner had never seen her friend so terrified, and she hurried toward Maria, her stomach beginning to clench with dread. "'Ria? You're freaking me out—what's going on?"

Slowly, the backstage reporter pivoted around to face her. She still held onto her halo like a security blanket; with the other, she pointed at the bouquet of roses wrapped in green paper. Ashley saw that her arm was visibly trembling. "Ash…your flowers…" Maria seemed incapable of speaking in anything more complex than sentence fragments. Her green eyes fastened on Ashley's, and the rookie Diva saw that they were bright with terror. "_They're dead_."

A low roar, like the sound of the ocean, rushed past Ashley's ears, and she strode toward the makeup counter, pushing her friend aside to see the evidence for herself. Maria was correct: the roses _were_ dead. Very dead, in fact. The vivid fresh blooms had inexplicably withered into dry brittle shells, their magenta hue now a muddy funereal purple. Hesitantly, Ashley reached out, with fingers that were trembling, and touched one of the blossoms. It instantly crumbled beneath her touch, the petals disintegrating into dust. The Diva Search winner rapidly backed away, biting back the urge to scream.

Maria was talking—"I _swear_, I picked them up right before you walked in, they were _fine"_—but Ashley could no longer comprehend the words. Her pulse was racing; any faster and her heart would explode. Everything had suddenly become too loud, too bright and too violent, and the overload of sensation was smothering her. She took a step back, then another, on knees that wobbled violently. Any further movements and she would surely collapse.

As she stood there, seeing but not seeing, understanding but not understanding, she heard the voice again—though whether it came from memory or reality, she no longer knew.

_THIS…is only the beginning…_

The room began to spin, faster and faster, until she felt like she was trapped at the center of a merry-go-round. Ashley's eyes rolled back into her head, and before Maria could even move to catch her, the rookie Diva fainted.


	26. Chapter 26: Lie to Me

**A/N: Yay for a new chapter! Sorry about the wait; I've had writer's block issues with other stories, plus the world's busiest semester drop-kicking me in the face right from the start. (I'm sure that I'm mixing my metaphors, but who cares?) Anyway, here it is and it's finished, and hopefully you enjoy!**

**Thank you to **Writinglove101, Ashleymassarophan1, CerebralPrincess, littleone999, Raven serotonin, xAttitudex, Batista Addicts, rory21, justbornawsome, **and **ShannonxMoore'sxLoverx** for reviewing the last chapter! You are AWESOME! Peace!

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Chapter 26: Lie To Me

Ashley drifted weightlessly through a sea of unconsciousness. She couldn't see or hear anything; the only sensation she could feel was darkness pressing against her from all sides. The rookie Diva tried to move her arms and legs, but found that she couldn't—her body seemed to have lost its form.

Her brain, on the other hand…freed from all physical and conscious restraints, it fairly hummed with activity. Even as she floated passively through this unending blackness, her mind was far from inactive. Thoughts were emerging from her subconscious; ideas and half-crazed notions that had plagued her for two months were coming into focus with absolute clarity. For the first time since debuting in the WWE, she understood everything. She knew what was happening to her; all these weird events and incidents. She knew who was responsible.

Most importantly—she knew _why_ it was happening.

But the rookie Diva wasn't afraid; far from it, in fact. Here, in this state of dreamlike unreality, there was nothing to fear. She was warm and protected here, locked inside a place where no one could reach her. No one could touch her here. No one could hurt her here. She was safe, she was safe…

_Ash?…Ash, can you hear me?..._

She could hear her name being called from a great distance. Light appeared at the edges of her vision, and Ashley felt herself being drawn toward the source of the illumination, like a swimmer buoyed to the surface of the water. The Diva Search winner tried to resist, but with nothing to grab onto, nothing to slow her progress, she had no choice but to relent to the insistent pull of approaching consciousness.

As the darkness receding further and further away from her, however, so did her awareness; her newfound knowledge of what was happening to her. At this, the Diva Search winner began to panic. Without this understanding, she would be powerless; unable to defend herself against what was destined to happen. But the more she tried to hold on to her thoughts, the more easily they slipped from her grasp, melting away into nothingness, leaving her just as ignorant and clueless about her fate as before.

_C'mon, Ash…wake up…_

In the moments before she crossed the line into full wakefulness, the rookie Diva had one final self-reflexive thought: the realization that once she opened her eyes, she would remember absolutely nothing—

Ashley opened her eyes.

Three concerned faces stared down at her. For a second or two, the Diva Search winner thought that she was still dreaming; why else would Trish Stratus, Wonder Woman, and an angel be standing over her? Her momentary confusion passed, however, when she realized that it was merely her friends, clad in their Halloween costumes.

Trish bent down a little further, her beautiful face creased with concern. "Ash? Are you all right? Say something."

Ashley tilted her head to the side, studying the Women's Champion thoughtfully. Slowly, she raised her hand, pointing her index finger at her mentor. "I had this _weird dream_…and _you_ were in it…and _you_…and _you—"_

The other Divas sighed in evident relief. Trish rolled her eyes toward the ceiling good-naturedly. "Ha ha, very funny." The Canadian beauty pressed one hand to her chest. "Jesus Christ—warn me the next time you keel over, okay? You almost gave me a heart attack."

Ashley raised her shoulders up in a tiny shrug. "Sorry." Her voice sounded strange in her ears; so small and weak. The rookie Diva lifted her head off the floor a little, trying to see the rest of the room. "Candice isn't here…is she?"

"What? Candice?" Trish followed Ashley's line of sight, glancing back over her shoulder briefly. "Don't worry; she's still out there prancing around, pretending to be Catwoman." The Women's Champion bent down, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I walked in the bathroom, and she was there, crawling around on the floor—"

"Look, no offense, I'm sure this is a great story," the Diva Search winner interrupted. "But could I hear it when I'm _not _lying flat on my back? I'm starting to feel like Candice on any given night."

Trish let out a very un-Diva-like snort of laughter. "You _must _be feeling better." She extended both of her hands toward Ashley. "Grab on." The rookie Diva did so, and with Trish's help, was able to pull herself back up onto her feet. The sudden shift in equilibrium made her head swim, and she quickly sank down onto a nearby bench.

Maria immediately scampered toward the makeup table. "Don't move; I'll get you some water!" the backstage reporter chirped.

Ashley nodded absently, raising one hand to her forehead. As she did so, she realized that the motion felt odd, as though her body had somehow become less…_unwieldy_. The Diva Search winner craned her neck around to look over her shoulder, comprehension finally dawning. "Wings…where are my wings?"

"Don't worry!" Maria called out from across the room. "They're fine; I took them off you." The backstage reporter returned to Ashley's side, bottle of water in hand, which the rookie Diva gratefully accepted. "You're lucky, you know that?" the former Diva Search contestant continued. "You didn't fall on your wings, and you didn't fall on your face. I couldn't do that even if I _tried_."

"Yeah…"Ashley remarked absently, only half-listening. "Lucky me…" She twisted the plastic cap off, chugging a few generous swallows of water, before pressing the cool plastic container to her forehead. She still felt woozy, and a little sick, but no longer like she had lost control of her body. Ashley closed her eyes, trying to remember, trying to recall what she had see in the black void of her unconscious. She knew that it had been important…but what was it? For one moment, the tiniest flicker of awareness flared up, and she could almost see it, could almost glimpse the faint outline of the thought. But in the next instant, that understanding burned out, skittering back into the darkness and out of her reach.

The rookie Diva opened her eyes, and in doing so, inadvertently locked gazes with Trish. Ashley abruptly felt her insides twist into a hard painful knot. The Women's Champion was clearly still worried, but she also had _that look_ on her face; that half-questioning, half-accusing countenance that Ashley hated. She had seen that expression once before, back when Trish had first grilled her about the nature of her relationship with Randy Orton. And she knew with a dreadful certainty that like last time, Trish would not stop until she had obtained the answers that she wanted.

Even if it meant forcing Ashley to say things she would rather die than openly admit.

The Canadian beauty's gaze slid away from hers for a second, focusing on nothing. No one had said anything, but the tension level in the room had ratcheted up several notches. Off to the side, Ashley heard Maria back away nervously. Only Mickie seemed unconcerned, glancing from Ashley to Trish and back again with obvious interest.

Trish's eyes abruptly swung back to meet Ashley's, breaking her mental reverie. Another long moment elapsed before the Women's Champion opened her mouth to speak. "So…" Trish began. "What happened?"

It was only three words, but in those three words, the Diva Search winner could hear everything. Beyond the concern and the worry…there was a matter-of-factness to Trish's voice, as though she already knew the answers to her questions. And mixed with that calm neutrality…there was accusation. Subtle…but there nonetheless.

Ashley forced a smile onto her face. It hurt, and she knew that the pain was showing. Her mouth grew dry, and it took all the inner strength she had left to swallow and force the words out. "Must have been low blood sugar or something. I didn't have that much to eat today…" The rookie Diva's voice trailed off into nothingness, as she realized the futility of this false explanation.

Trish knew the truth; even Maria and Mickie had to know by now that she was hiding something. The only reason the Women's Champion hadn't called her out on it was because she had been waiting for Ashley to be the one to admit it. But the Diva Search winner couldn't do that—because telling the truth would have also meant admitting that she was living a lie.

And Ashley couldn't admit that to anyone…including herself.

Trish tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes never wavering from Ashley's. "Really?" There was only the faintest note of sarcasm in her voice. "You sure about that? You sure that _this_ didn't have something to do with it?" The Women's Champion raised her hand, and the rookie Diva could see for the first time that she was holding something in it; a very familiar-looking item wrapped in green paper…

The second that Ashley saw the shriveled dead rose blooms, bile climbed up her throat, hot and sour, almost making her gag. The water bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull sloshing sound. Maria shrieked, a high shrill sound, jumping back to avoid the rapidly growing puddle of water.

The Diva Search winner didn't notice; she couldn't tear her gaze away from the gruesome-looking bouquet. Her hands shook, and she quickly clamped her fingers around the square edge of the bench, her knuckles flushing white, her nails digging into the processed wood almost hard enough to break.

Trish didn't say anything at first, but her reproachful expression softened slightly. "That's what I thought," the Canadian beauty remarked after a while. Her tone, too, had warmed a little. The Women's Champion turned toward Mickie, holding the bouquet out toward her biggest fan. "Hey, Mick, do me a favor; throw these away, will you?" The normally brunette Diva nodded eagerly, and reached out to accept the flowers. As she did, Trish added: "Not here; out in the hall." Mickie obeyed, pulling open the door and exiting the locker room.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Ashley felt the irrational terror drain from her body, leaving her numb and weak. Trish looked tired as well, letting out her breath in a long sigh, her shoulders slumping. The Women's Champion walked slowly over to the makeup counter, placing both hands on its surface and bowing her head. When she spoke, her voice was just as exhausted as her face. "I thought it was over between you and him."

Ashley looked down at the floor, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. "It _is_," she whispered. Even though her statement was _technically _true, her voice sounded so unconvincing that even she didn't believe herself.

"Then what just happened?" Trish shot back. The Canadian beauty whirled around, her countenance full of anger for the first time. She stepped toward the rookie Diva, her movements slow and deliberate, as though she was trying to keep herself from lashing out physically. "Huh? If it's over, then explain for me what just happened." Trish stopped right in front of Ashley, glaring down at the Diva Search winner. "And don't even _try_ and tell me that those flowers came from Matt—look at you! You can't even look me in the face, you little liar!" She bent down, putting her finger under Ashley's chin and forcing her head up. "You _promised me_ that you would _end it_—"

"I _did_!" the rookie Diva snapped, swatting Trish's hand away. The Women's Champion looked shocked for a second, but in the next moment, her expression shut down, becoming hard and unreadable. Ashley glared back at her, knowing that she was guilty, but still unwilling to back down. For the first time, she glimpsed the distance between her and Trish, the divide of years and experience that had probably always been there—and she wondered if the two of them could ever truly understand one another.

The Diva Search winner rose to her feet, her eyes still locked with Trish's. "I have tried _so hard_ to stay away from him," she whispered, her voice catching with emotion. _That_, at least, was not a lie. Ashley went on. "But tell me—please, _tell me—_what I'm supposed to do when he won't stay away from me."

At this, all the fury drained from Trish's expression, leaving the Women's Champion looking just as tired as Ashley felt. The Canadian beauty looked away. "_Shit_." she murmured under her breath.

The rookie Diva wanted to add something further, one final comment or retort, but found that she couldn't. Her supply of words had been thoroughly depleted, and the only action she was capable of performing at this point was standing here, arms hanging limply at her sides. Her whole body felt heavy, as though her limbs had been infused with lead.

Trish pressed her hand to her forehead, massaging her temples with her thumb and fingers. "What the hell is going on?" the Women's Champion murmured, but whether she was asking herself or the Diva Search winner, Ashley didn't know.

* * *

Mickie pranced down the hall, humming to herself, swinging the bouquet of dead flowers back and forth at her side. She was nearing one of the large blue trash barrels when a figure came racing around the corner from the opposite direction, nearly knocking her over.

The new Diva shrieked, pinwheeling her arms around for support. Matt quickly reached out and grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. "Sorry, Trish," he apologized, his tone distracted. "I didn't—" The elder Hardy brother paused, peering closely at the face of the Diva in front of him. "Oh, wait, my bad, Mickie—didn't recognize you with that wig on."

Mickie smiled, tossing her faux blonde tresses over her shoulder. "No worries!" she replied brightly. "You really think I look like Trish, though?"

"Yeah, sure." Matt glanced over his shoulder, and then back at her. "Listen, Mick…Ashley—I just heard that she fainted. Is she all right?"

The new Diva nodded. "Oh, sure. I mean, she looked kinda pale when I left, but I'm sure she's fine now."

The elder Hardy brother stole another glance over his shoulder. "What happened? Do you know?"

Mickie shrugged nonchalantly. "All I know is that she got _these_…" She held up the bouquet to punctuate her statement. "…and BOOM! She fainted!" The Raw Diva studied the dead blooms, her forehead furrowing in confused curiosity. "Funny thing, though; Maria said they were still fresh when Ash got them—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Matt waved his arms vehemently, cutting Mickie off in mid-sentence. "Go back—someone sent Ash _flowers_!" The self-proclaimed Trish Stratus fan nodded. The elder Hardy brother frowned, glancing from the roses to Mickie. "_Who_ sent them?"

Mickie blinked, her pretty features fixed in a look of genuine bewilderment. "You mean _you _didn't?" she asked.

Her question had been completely innocent—and yet, it was precisely the wrong thing to say. For a moment, Matt froze. Then, as Mickie watched, the warmth and concern evaporated from his expression, leaving behind a cold unyielding mask. Without another word, Matt released his grip on the Raw Diva's shoulders, spinning around and striding down the hall toward the women's locker room.

Mickie watched him depart, then shrugged, turning back toward the trash barrel. "That was _weird…_" she remarked to herself. She took exactly two more steps before the awful realization of what she had just done slammed into her, making her pause. The Raw Diva whipped her head around, her countenance full of horror. "_Matt_!" she screamed. "Matt, _wait_!"

There was no answer. Letting go of the bouquet, Mickie dashed down the hallway after the elder Hardy brother, hoping she could catch him before he reached the locker room. "_Shit_!" the Raw Diva wailed. "Trish is gonna _kill me_!"

* * *

The door flew open, eliciting startled squawks from the three Divas. "What the _fuck_!" Trish exclaimed. "Doesn't anybody _knock_ anymore—" Her voice trailed off into silence when she realized who was on the other side of the door.

Ashley took a step back, her knees trembling. Her heart leaped into her throat, cutting off her words, threatening to cut off her flow of oxygen as well. The expression on Matt's face was terrifying, filled with blank rage. But lurking in his dark eyes…there was hurt. There was genuine pain and hurt, and somehow, that was even scarier than the wrath.

The rookie Diva stole a look over at Trish. What she saw didn't comfort her; the Women's Champion looked just as petrified as she did. But there was something else in her countenance, something in her eyes as she gazed at the elder Hardy brother…

And in that single lucid second, Ashley understood why Trish was so protective of Matt Hardy's heart…

Her revelation ended abruptly as Matt crossed the space between them, grabbing hold of her arm so hard that she was sure he would break it. Her boyfriend leaned down close until they were nose-to-nose, spitting out his words in a terse whisper: "We need to talk—_now_."

With that, he yanked her toward the door, throwing open the door and shoving her out into the hall. Ashley could hear Trish pleading behind her—" Matt, _wait_! _Please_! Calm down!"—but Matt gave no indication that he had heard her. Not that it would have made any difference, anyway. Words were not going to stop the elder Hardy brother. She doubted that _anything_ could at this point.

Besides, _this_…this was inevitable. She had been awaiting this confrontation since the moment she realized she was in love with a man who wasn't her boyfriend.

_Matt loved Lita…_the Diva Search winner thought dully to herself. _He was with her for six years…but that didn't stop him from putting his hands on her when she betrayed him. That didn't stop him from nailing her with a Twist of Fate inside a steel cage._

_And if he could do that to HER…what do you suppose he's capable of doing to ME?..._

Matt halted suddenly, swinging Ashley around and practically throwing her against the wall. The rookie Diva's head connected painfully with the cinderblock surface, but she didn't cry out. She was pretty sure this minor pain was only the least of what could befall her.

Matt shoved his face into hers. "So…" he began, his tone only a degree away from a growl. "_Who is he_?"

Ashley swallowed hard, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. "Matt…" she managed to say. God, she even _sounded_ guilty as hell. "I can explain—"

"Yeah, I think you'd better," Matt interjected brusquely, cutting her off. He leaned closer, pressing his hand on the wall right next to her head. "Starting with who the _fuck_ sent you those flowers."

Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, however, comprehension flashed across his face; the signal that, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, a connection had been made. The elder Hardy brother slowly shook his head, his stoic expression momentarily faltering, affording the Diva Search winner a glimpse of the hurt, damaged soul residing within. "No…" Matt whispered. "No…don't tell me that…" Ashley didn't know if he was pleading with her or merely trying to convince himself. Tentatively, she reached out, touching his cheek, but Matt rudely swatted her hand away, his face shutting down once more. He took hold of her upper arms, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to bruise. "You told me that there was _nothing _between you two!"

"There _isn't_!" Ashley managed to cry. Just hearing herself utter the lie made her heart twist painfully within her chest. She struggled to free herself from the elder Hardy brother's grip. "Would you just _listen—"_

But Matt was already shaking his head, no longer listening to her, no longer listening to anyone. "Just tell me the truth! Tell me the _fucking_ truth!" He was shouting now, his Southern drawl echoing off the corridor walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Ashley could see a crowd starting to form. Matt let go of her arms, reaching up to grab her chin in his hand. "Or, since you can't seem to do that, lie to me! _Lie to me_!" Unconsciously, he began to tighten his grip, squeezing her jaw between his fingers. "_Tell me_ that there's _nothing_ going on between you and that piece of shit! _Tell me_ that you're not screwing him behind my _back_!"

Ashley began to cry, tears streaming down over her cheeks. "Matt…please…" she begged softly. Her boyfriend had become completely unrecognizable. Was this really the sweet guy she had just seen a while ago, the one she had said "I love you" to? _This_ Matt...Ashley had seen him before. In a hotel room, with a love note in his hand...and in a hallway. The rookie Diva remembered that time she had spied him with Lita; the way he had smiled…and the way the red-haired Diva had backed away in fear…

_Go to hell?...Oh, I'm GOING to hell…but I'm not going alone…_

And she had no doubt that if the ground opened up and Matt was dragged to hell in this very instant, he would take the Diva Search winner with him.

"What's going on here?"

Ashley's eyes widened, and she turned toward the source of the voice. Randy stood only a few feet away. His face was just as cold and emotionless as it had been when she'd last seen him, but there was a tenseness to his body now, as though he was waiting for just the right catalyst to spring him into action.

Matt's dark irises grew wide as well, and without releasing his grip on the rookie Diva, he turned his head, fixing the Legend Killer with a glare. "Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" the elder Hardy brother snarled.

Randy met his stare without flinching, his blue eyes narrowing slightly with evident dislike. His voice, when he spoke, was just as tightly controlled as his body language. "Why don't you _back off_?" His tone was soft, almost a whisper, but there was no mistaking the implied threat.

By now, the hallway was packed, Superstars from Raw and SmackDown crowding both sides. Randy took no notice of them. His azure gaze flicked toward Ashley, locking onto hers. His stony countenance softened ever-so-slightly. "Ash…" the Legend Killer asked hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

Ashley heard nothing, saw nothing—and yet, she could still sense the exact moment when Matt snapped. The elder Hardy brother let go of her, storming toward Randy. "You sick _fuck_," he exclaimed through clenched teeth. "You think that you can just take whatever you want, whenever you want, and it doesn't matter who you hurt, so long as you _get_ what you want!"

Matt's hands shot out, catching the Legend Killer in the chest and shoving him back hard. Randy stumbled, but rapidly regained his footing. He made no move to defend himself. The elder Hardy brother went on. "I'm so sick of guys like you; guys who think they can walk all over everyone else, who don't care about anything except _themselves_!" He punctuated his last word with another shove. This time, the Legend Killer staggered backward into an equipment crate, but still, didn't try to fight back.

Matt grabbed him by the shirt collar, hauling him back up until they were face-to-face. His voice dropped to a cold terse murmur. "You're screwed…did you know that? Once he comes back, you're fucked, and _everyone_ knows it. He's gonna drag you down to hell…but I'm not letting you drag her down with you. Do you hear me? Do you _hear me, you fucking piece of shit_!" Curling his free hand into a fist, he raised it, preparing to send it smashing into Randy's emotionless expression.

Even though Matt had released his hold on her, Ashley still couldn't move. It was as though his touch had turned her to stone; she could only watch Matt's verbal attack on Randy. But the moment she saw his fist in the air, her paralysis snapped, and she bolted forward, screaming: "No!" At the sound of her voice, the elder Hardy brother hesitated. Ashley wedged her body in front of Randy's like a shield, grabbing onto Matt's arm. "_Please_, Matt," the Diva Search winner pleaded. "_Don't_."

Matt tugged his arm free, glaring at her. "Why are you protecting him?" he demanded.

Ashley didn't answer at first; merely let her gaze drift out over the spectators. _Everyone_ was here, from John Cena and the Big Show, to Rey Mysterio and Christian, to—holy shit—Candice and her fucking cat suit. But just beyond the sea of bodies, the rookie Diva thought she glimpsed a familiar flash of vibrant red hair. And Lita's words came echoing back to her…

_YOU…are far too much like ME…_

The last thing Ashley had wanted was to prove Lita right. And right now, here she was, in a hallway, surrounded by Superstars, watching Matt do it for her. It didn't matter what she had done, because no one was going to look at her the same after this. Even if she hadn't kissed Randy, even if the note had been a prank, even if this whole thing had been a big misunderstanding—it wouldn't matter, because everyone was going to look at her now and see Lita. And not the Diva who had revolutionized the women's division—but the _slut_.

She could almost hear the locker room gossip now:

_Oh, you know that Diva Matt Hardy's dating?_

_Yeah?_

_Well, I heard she's screwing Randy Orton?_

_Really? Well, that doesn't surprise, considering who he USED to date._

_What, Lita? Yeah, those punk girls are all alike…_

_Yeah, what a slut…_

The Diva Search winner felt a cold dull anger take hold of her. She didn't deserve this. True, she had done a lot of things wrong in regards to her love life, but _she didn't deserve this_.

Ashley looked up at Matt, her blue-green eyes locking onto his. "Because everyone is staring at us," she replied through gritted teeth. "And because you're acting completely insane."

Matt flinched, as though she had slapped him. The dark wrath slowly drained from his expression. He took a hesitant step back, but Ashley wasn't finished. "Is this _really _where you want to have this conversation?" she demanded, moving toward him. "_Here_? In front of _everyone_?"

"Ash, I'm sorry—" Matt began, but the rookie Diva cut him off.

"Forget it; I can't _do_ this!" Ashley's voice broke, and she looked back at the elder Hardy brother, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I love you and I want this thing to work—but not like this. Not when you're being a complete _psycho_." Ashley straightened up, adjusting her corset top with all the dignity she could muster. "Now if you'll _excuse_ me…I have a costume contest to get ready for." Ducking her head, she moved around Matt and through the sea of Superstars, who parted sympathetically to let her pass.

"Ash!" Matt called out after her. "Ashley, wait! I'm sorry!" Getting no response, the elder Hardy brother pressed his lips together in a thin line, turning back toward Randy. The Legend Killer was still half-slumped against the equipment crate for support, staring off at an unseen point in space. Matt looked at him for a second, then without warning, hit him across the face with a hard open-hand slap. Randy's head snapped to the side, but other than that, he gave no indication that he was even aware of what was going on. Matt's mouth curled in disgust. "This is all _your_ fault," he snapped. Without adding anything further, he stormed off in pursuit of the Diva Search winner.

For a few seconds, the Superstars remained where they were, shuffling their feet in place uncomfortably. Gradually, however, they dispersed, returning to their various tasks as though they hadn't just been watching a real-life soap opera. Many of them shot Randy looks as they passed.

None of them were nice.

The Legend Killer ignored all of them, waiting until the corridor was more or less deserted before pulling himself up into a standing position. As he did so, he glanced down the hallway in the direction that Ashley had departed. Randy's stoic mask abruptly crumpled in pain and he pressed his forehead against the wall.

"I know…and I'm sorry…Ash…_I'm so sorry_…"


	27. Chapter 27: You Were Warned

**A/N: New chapter, new chapter! And one I've been looking forward to writing, I have to add. Again, thank you to all those who have continued to patiently bear with me and my horrible icky schedule. Enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **justbornawsome, ShannonxMoore'sxLoverx, CerebralPrincess, raven serotonnin, Batista Addicts, MissMikkiMouse, **and **rory21** for reviewing the last chapter! You are all awesome and I love you all!

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Chapter 27: You Were Warned

Matt trudged slowly down the hotel corridor, hands shoved into his pockets. Occasionally, he would pause, glancing up at the ceiling and rehearsing his apology for the nth time, as he struggled to organize his thoughts into some kind of coherent order.

It wasn't easy; all he could think about—all he'd been _able_ to think about for the past few hours—was that confrontation with Ashley in the hallway. The elder Hardy brother still couldn't believe that he'd snapped like that; that he'd allowed his emotions to overtake him so completely. The whole thing seemed like a dream, its events too surreal and absurd to be reality. He loved the rookie Diva; it didn't seem possible that he had screamed at her, thrown her against the wall....or bruised her.

Matt didn't regret hitting Orton—that guy had had it coming for a long time. But what he had done to Ashley tonight was absolutely reprehensible. He had treated her like shit; did everything short of calling her a whore—in front of the entire roster—for something that probably wasn't even her fault.

And the worst part of it was—the thing that galled Matt even more than the thought of manhandling his girlfriend—that Orton had wound up looking like the fucking white knight in this whole situation. Randy Orton, who didn't care about anyone or anything, had had to rescue the Diva Search winner from her own boyfriend. That notion alone made the elder Hardy brother want to throw up. Or punch the wall. Or both.

Matt stopped, slumping against the wall and letting out a heavy sigh. For him, 2005 had been like walking through a carnival funhouse: up was down, black was white, and reality was little more than just a state of mind. He had been fired, rehired, and then thrown back into the same situation that had gotten him fired in the first place. He had been moved about like a pawn on a chessboard, shuffled from brand to brand without his consent. The only constant in his life, the only thing that had kept him from losing his mind during this tumultuous time, was Ashley Massaro.

Everyone knew how much he had loved Amy. That was no secret; even the fans knew that. Matt had spent six years in love with the red-haired Diva, had planned on spending the rest of his life with her—and then one night, all of that joy, all of that _hope_….had been taken away from him.

No one would ever know what had transpired between the two of them that night, or how ugly it had gotten between him and Amy. No one would ever know about the darkness that had possessed him during that time; a darkness that even now threatened to pull him back in. When he began dating Ashley, the elder Hardy brother swore that, no matter what, he would never subject the rookie Diva to that same darkness.

And for a while, things had been good. But shortly before he had gone to SmackDown, the first stirrings of doubt began to creep in. It wasn't suspicion so much as the gradual escalation of an ever-present anxiety: the worry that his relationship with Ashley was too good to be true—that somehow, history would find a way to repeat itself.

At first, Matt refused to listen to his own inner misgivings. But then that goddamned note had ended up underneath his door…

The SmackDown Superstar winced at the memory of that night, at how he'd lost it. Though it paled in comparison to his actions earlier this evening, he'd still been totally out of line. He could still recall the expression on the Diva Search winner's face; the anger, the hurt, and the utter exasperation in her eyes as she screamed back at him….

_Goddamn it, I'm not her!...._

It wasn't until those words tumbled from Ashley's lips that Matt realized what he'd been doing all this time. He'd been expecting the worst because he'd subconsciously assumed that the rookie Diva—just because she wore ripped jeans and listened to punk rock—would turn out to be just like Amy. But Ashley wasn't, never would be, and to continue harboring the belief that she, too, would betray him would be to continue dwelling on the past.

_No more…_he'd vowed after that. _No more…_ It wasn't fair to anyone, _especially_ Ashley, to keep living in the past. And again, for a while, he'd kept that promise. But then, tonight, he'd seen that bouquet of flowers, and his oath—along with his common sense—had flown right out the window….

He had to make this right—or he would lose her. There was no other way to phrase it. The elder Hardy brother had screwed up once before, and Ashley—out of the goodness of her heart—had given him a second chance. He doubted she would be quite so willing to give him a third. Either way, he had to try, because the only thing worse than this was being alone once again.

Alone….knowing that he had found love….and knowing that this time, _he _had been the one to fuck it up.

Matt pushed his body off the wall, traversing the few steps further to Ashley's hotel room. The elder Hardy brother paused in front of the door, hesitated, took a deep breath, and then raised his hand to knock. As he did so, however, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that his suspicions about Ashley and the Legend Killer—however unfounded they might be—were somehow also correct….

He heard muffled voices from within the room. Matt craned his head toward the door, trying to make out the conversation, only to quickly straighten up as it swung open. Trish poked her head out, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the SmackDown Superstar. Without taking her eyes off his face, the Women's Champion leaned against the door jamb, crossing her arms over her chest. Behind her, Matt could see the concerned and ever-present figure of Mickie James.

The elder Hardy brother grinned uneasily, decided it was inappropriate, and hastily wiped the smile off his face. "Hey, Trish…." he began. The Canadian beauty raised one eyebrow, but said nothing. Her fingers beat out a slow but ceaseless tattoo against her forearm. Matt sighed, casting his gaze down to the floor for a second or two before looking back up at Trish. "Can I see her?" Still no response from the Women's Champion. "_Please_?" the SmackDown Superstar added, painfully aware of how pleading his voice sounded.

For a few moments, Trish's countenance didn't change. Then slowly, almost reluctantly, she stepped back from the door jamb, allowing the elder Hardy brother access to the room. As Matt eased by her and Mickie, the Canadian beauty spoke: "If she tells you to leave, you don't argue; you get the hell out. Understand?" The authoritative tone to her voice left absolutely no room for negotiation.

Matt nodded vaguely without really looking at her; he was too focused on what was in front of him. Golden light shone from the bedside lamp, while Cartoon Network silently played on the television in the corner. Ashley lay on one of the beds, her back to the door. Maria sat beside her on the coverlet, gently rubbing the Diva Search winner's shoulders. The backstage reporter looked up, startled, as Matt stepped into the room, her bubbly demeanor absent for once.

The elder Hardy brother's eyes slid from her to the figure of his girlfriend. So far, the rookie Diva had given no indication that she was even aware of his presence. With her knees drawn up almost to her chest, and a blanket draped over her slim form, Ashley looked less like a Diva and more like a small child seeking comfort after a nightmare. Matt felt his heart wrench painfully within his chest as he remembered that _he_ was the cause of her nightmare. _He_ was the reason she was so upset.

Matt stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. He glanced from Maria to Ashley and back again, hoping that the former Diva Search contestant would get the message. Gradually, Maria grasped the gist of his nonverbal communication, leaning over to whisper something into Ashley's ear before getting to her feet. As she passed by him, however, the backstage reporter shot him a look that could best be described as: "Make her cry again and I'll kill you."

Somehow, Matt didn't doubt that she'd make good on that threat.

The SmackDown Superstar carefully eased his body onto the bed, stretching out next to Ashley. He reached out with one hand to tenderly stroke her long blond hair. The Diva Search winner tensed at his touch, drawing away from him with a soft gasp. The elder Hardy brother felt another agonizing twist of emotion and reluctantly pulled his hand back. "Ash?" Matt whispered. "Are you listening?"

For a second or two, there was nothing. Then, the rookie Diva shrugged, a tiny shift of her shoulders, indicating that yes, she was. Matt went on. "Ash, listen to me—I'm _sorry_. I'm _so sorry_." He paused, biting his lip, then continued. "I was a total bastard tonight, and you have every right to hate me. You _should_ hate me. What I did to you—there's no excuse for it. I just…" Another pause. The SmackDown Superstar eventually went on, his voice breaking. "I just don't want to _lose_ you, baby girl."

At this, Ashley rolled over onto her opposite hip, turning to face him. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. But what distressed Matt even more than the evidence of her misery were the faint purple bruises marring her jaw, where his fingers had dug into her skin. At this, the elder Hardy brother felt his stomach plummet toward the ground. He had hurt her. Maybe he hadn't hit her….but looking at her face right now, seeing her glare accusingly back at him….he might as well have.

The Diva Search winner spoke, her voice a barely controlled whisper of fury: "So is _that_ why you threw me against a wall—so you wouldn't _lose _me?"

"Ash—" the SmackDown Superstar began, but Ashley swiftly cut him off.

"You didn't even give me a chance to explain," The rookie Diva pushed her hair back from her face before she went on. "I kept begging you to stop, to _listen_—but you didn't do either. You just threw me up against the wall and called me a liar."

Ashley stopped, reaching up to wipe her nose with the back of her sleeve. Tears were beginning to pool in her blue-green eyes once more. "I didn't even…_recognize_ you out there. The way you looked at me…I thought you were going to hit me—"

For a moment, memory took hold of the elder Hardy brother, transporting him from a hotel room in California to his kitchen back in North Carolina, from the present day to several months before, to a night he wanted only to forget…

_Amy glared at him, her brown eyes narrowing to tiny slits. "What do you want me to say, Matt?" the red-haired Diva demanded. "That I don't love you anymore? That it's over?" She took a step toward him, tossing her vibrant hair over one shoulder. "That you couldn't SATISFY me anymore? That I finally found a REAL man?"_

_At this, Matt tensed, but didn't say anything. He met his soon-to-ex-girlfriend's gaze without flinching—but down at his sides, he began to clench and unclench his hands._

_Amy's gaze momentarily flicked down, studying this unconscious physical response, before darting back up to his face. Her lips twitched, twisting into a sneer. "What're you gonna do, Matt?" she taunted. "Are you gonna hit me? Prove how big a MAN you are?" The Queen of Hardcore turned her head to the side, tapping her cheek. "Go ahead, then. Hit me." _

_When no response came, the red-haired Diva swung her head back around, the scorn in her expression blossoming into full-blown derision. "What's the matter? Too much of a coward to even do THAT?" Amy laughed, the sound of it bitter and mocking. "I don't know why I stuck around all those years. Look at you; you're PATHETIC. You're not even a MAN anymore—"_

_Matt didn't remember what was said after that; the only thing he could recall was seeing his hand raised in the air, trembling for an instant before descending to crash against Amy's cheek…._

Matt flinched, the awful clarity of that night violently giving way to the equally painful present. Ashley didn't seem to notice his temporary disconnect; she was still talking: "—right there, in front of Candice, in front of _everyone_." She hesitated, her eyes searching his face. "But you didn't care. I think…if Randy hadn't stepped in…you really _would_ have hit me."

At the mention of the Legend Killer's name, Matt felt a cold anger take hold of him, but he quickly forced it to the back of his mind. There was a time and a place to curse out Orton—and right now was _definitely not_ that time. Instead, the SmackDown Superstar reached out tentatively again, his fingertips grazing Ashley's cheek. He was relieved to see that she didn't shy away this time. "Ash…" he began. "I fucked up, okay? I fucked up_ bad_—"

"Really? You think?" the rookie Diva interrupted, but there was no sarcasm in her voice, only a dull absence of emotion.

The elder Hardy brother went on. "—but I'm here because I'm hoping, I'm _praying_…that you can forgive me."

"And why should I?" Ashley demanded. "Why should I—if you're going to go psycho every time another guy so much as looks at me?" The Diva Search winner fell silent, covering her face with both hands. When she spoke again, her voice was muffled. "There was a time…when I thought…that I had a chance with Randy Orton. But in the end…" Ashley dropped her hands from her face, gazing at her boyfriend. Her expression was heartbreaking. "In the end…I chose you. _I chose you_. And I can understand why he can't accept that—what I don't understand is why _you_ can't accept that."

The rookie Diva reached over to touch Matt's face. "I'm with _you_. I love _you_—I don't know how much clearer I can make that." Her voice fell in volume until it was nearly inaudible. "I really don't…"

Without speaking, Matt wrapped his arms around Ashley, pulling her against him and into his embrace. The Diva Search winner didn't move to hold him, but didn't push him away, either. The elder Hardy brother pressed his lips to her forehead. "It's going to get better, Ash," he promised, murmuring into her hair. "I _swear_—after tonight, it's going to get better."

* * *

But things did not get better. If anything, they got worse.

Less than two weeks later, both rosters—now deeply entrenched in a vicious brand war—were rocked by the sudden death of Eddie Guerrero. Ashley, who had only met Eddie a few times, was nevertheless incredibly shaken by the news. Eddie had been a man who had loved life, and it didn't seem possible that someone so vigorous, so full of life, could all a sudden be _gone_.

This tragedy, this unwelcome reminder of the transient nature of life, by all means should have brought her and Matt closer together, but yet, every time she talked to the elder Hardy brother, the rookie Diva could feel them drifting further and further apart. For once, the physical distance that separated them didn't seem nearly so vast as the emotional distance between them. A distance that, quite possibly, could never be bridged.

As for Randy…well, she hadn't heard from him since Halloween night. It seemed that for perhaps the first time ever, the Legend Killer was respecting her wishes. Ashley knew that she should feel _something_—anger, relief, _something_. But ever since Eddie's passing, the Diva Search winner was finding it difficult to feel _anything_. Maybe she was still in shock. Maybe she had shut down weeks before in Anaheim.

Either way…Ashley was growing used to being numb. Either way…she just didn't care. She. Just. Didn't. Care.

That's why she was sitting here alone in the locker room, one week after Eddie's memorial, six days before Survivor Series, knees pulled up to her chest, ear buds jammed in her ears, Slipknot blasting as loud as she could stand it. She didn't hear the door open, so she almost leapt three feet into the air in shock when a hand grabbed onto her shoulder, shaking her hard.

The Diva Search winner yanked the ear buds out of her ears, turning toward the source of the interruption. Her irritated expression quickly faded into one of wary uneasy when she found herself staring into the frantic eyes of Mickie James.

Trish's biggest fan was talking, words spilling out over one another so fast that they were almost unintelligible: "They took her! They took Trish! They dragged her over the barricade—"

Ashley rapidly rose to her feet, grabbing hold of Mickie's arms and shaking her as hard as she dared. "_Mickie_," the rookie Diva commanded, her voice holding more than a modicum of impatience. "Look at me." The brunette Diva did so. Ashley went on, her tone softening a touch. "You're not making any sense. _Who_ took her?"

Mickie's speech was only slightly more enunciated the second time. "During my match, Trish was at ringside. All of a sudden, I look over and these two guys in ski masks are carrying her away." The Trish Stratus superfan wriggled free, reaching out to take hold of Ashley's wrist. "They couldn't have gone out of the arena! C'mon! We have to find her!" With that, she pulled the Diva Search winner toward the door.

For a second or two, Ashley resisted. The story was more than a little ludicrous, and besides, Mickie was a fry or two short of a Happy Meal. But then the rookie Diva remembered just what kind of profession she worked in. She usually saw five or six ludicrous events in the space of two hours—so if Mickie said she saw Trish get kidnapped by two masked men, chances were…it had actually happened.

Reluctantly, Ashley let Mickie pull her out the door, and down the hallway in search of the Women's Champion.

* * *

The arena was bigger than some of the others Ashley had encountered during her career, and the deeper she and Mickie traveled into its bowels, the creepier it got. Presently, the two Divas were making their way down a winding narrow corridor. Pipes ran across the ceiling and along some of the walls, broken up by the occasional doorway, leading into dark ominous rooms.

For once, Ashley welcomed Mickie's presence; there was no way she could have made this journey by herself. There was something unearthly about this place, something that hinted at things beyond the grasp of rational thought and logic. And for some reason, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that they weren't alone; that someone or some_thing_ was sharing this space with them.

Trish's biggest fan ground to a halt, peering ahead of her, and then casting a look back over her shoulder. "Trish!" the brunette Diva called. "Are you down here?"

There was no answer; only the faint _drip drip drip_ of water. Ashley grabbed hold of Mickie's arm, squeezing it harder than she intended. "Let's go," the Diva Search winner ventured, unnerved by how shaky her voice sounded. "She's not down here. If she was down here, she would have heard us—"

Her voice trailed away into nothing as, right on cue, the faintly audible shouts of the Women's Champion could be heard: "Ash? Mickie? Is that you? Over here, you guys! Over here!"

Ashley and Mickie shot each other a brief glance, before simultaneously sprinting toward the source of Trish's voice. A few more twists and turns led them to a darkened room, the only visible light coming from a single light bulb hanging above the doorway. The two Divas cautiously peered inside. "Trish?" Mickie asked hesitantly.

"In here!" Both girls jumped at the impatient shout that greeted them. Stepping into the room, Ashley could see—faintly illuminated by the solitary glow of the light bulb—a figure lying on the floor. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that it was indeed Trish, tied to a chair and clearly mad as hell.

Ashley and Mickie immediately rushed to their mentor's side, Mickie already pulling at the ropes restraining Trish's wrists. "Oh my God!" the brunette Diva exclaimed. "What happened? Who did this?"

"Melina," the Women's Champion gasped out, trying to talk around a large piece of black tape still stuck to the side of her mouth. Mickie obligingly ripped it off; Trish yelped in pain. "Ouch! Anyway, that Paris Hilton-wannabe thought she'd show up her and get her little boy-toys to kidnap me as a way of challenging me to a match at Survivor Series." The Canadian beauty fidgeted around, anxious to be free of her bonds. "Big mistake on her part, because come this Sunday—I'm gonna fuck that bitch up."

Ashley laughed at this, but her giggle instantly died away as a new voice joined the fray. An all-too-familiar voice. A voice that she was pretty sure only she could hear.

_Ashley_….

The rookie Diva slowly rose to her feet, looking back toward the doorway. No one was there, but yet…she could have sworn that the voice came from that direction…and there, right there—wasn't that a flicker of movement, as thought someone had just stepped out of the light back into the shadows?

Ashley swallowed hard. She knew with absolute certainty that the safest place for her to be was right here with Mickie and Trish, not chasing after some mysterious shadow that may or may not exist. But then she heard the voice again—

_Ashley_…

--and she knew that she no longer had a choice; some outside force was compelling her to follow...to wherever it might lead. This wasn't about curiosity anymore—no, this was about _obedience_.

Trish was busy bitching about Melina; Mickie was busy untying Trish. Neither one of them noticed Ashley slip out into the corridor.

* * *

The rookie Diva stumbled, almost falling down onto her hands and knees. Tears stung her eyes, climbed up her throat, but she forced them back. She didn't know where she was anymore; the path the voice had led her down didn't seem like the one that had led her to Trish. She couldn't hear Trish and Mickie any longer—in fact, she couldn't hear _anything_.

Only silence. Deathly, all-consuming silence.

More than once, Ashley had tried to turn around and go back, but every time she attempted to do so, the voice boomed in her ear, yanking her forward like a dog on a leash. With every step she took, she was growing more and more frightened—but also, more and more frustrated.

Finally, the Diva Search winner couldn't take it any more. She stopped, pressing the soles of her feet against the floor, prepared to dig in her heels and fight for dear life should the voice urge her forward again. "Who are you?" she called out, her voice emerging from her throat more pleading than challenging.

No answer—not that she'd expected one. Ashley cautiously took a step forward, then another, expecting any moment to be dragged forward or hurtled against the wall like a rag doll. She was standing inside the doorway of a room, much like the one where they had found Trish. This one, for some reason, was much darker. Ashley's blue-green irises swept over the space, trying to visualize its contents. She could just make out a tall black mass in the corner; probably a boiler or heating apparatus of some kind. Other than that, the room was empty. More than empty—_deserted_.

The rookie Diva slowly shook her head. This was beyond ridiculous. She had let herself be dragged left and right, far away from her friends, only to wind up in a room. An _empty_ room. And for what? To prove a point? To fuck with her?

Ashley sank to her knees, her bare skin scraping against the pavement. "What's going on?" she whispered, her voice all but swallowed up by the silence. "Why are you _doing_ this?" The Diva Search winner bowed her head, her shoulders shaking as she finally gave in to her tears. "_Why?_"

"Because you were warned."

Ashley's head shot up, her eyes growing wide with shock. The voice had spoken, but it hadn't come from inside her head--_it had come from right here, in this very room_. As she watched, mute with terror, the black mass in the corner—the one she had pegged as a boiler—_moved_, striding toward her with deliberate, almost malevolent slowness. As it neared her, she realized it wasn't a shadow, but a _man. _

More than that—a man she had met once before.

Ashley slowly looked up in the cold impassive stare of the Undertaker. The Deadman pointed at her, uttering five words in a voice that had haunted her since her first day in the WWE: "_Stay away from Randy Orton_."

Ashley tried to scream, but found that she couldn't; sound simply refused to emanate from her throat. She scrambled backward, still on hands and knees, trying to put as much distance between her and 'Taker as humanly possible. She understood; oh God, she finally _understood_. Randy's behavior—he hadn't been trying to make up his mind. No, all this time...he had been trying to protect her from _this_.

Ashley's back collided with the wall, her skull connecting with the cinderblock, and for a moment, she was dizzy and disoriented. The rookie Diva squeezed her eyes shut, certain that if she did so, all of this would prove to be nothing more than a dream. But the light scrape of boots on concrete quickly shattered this delusion, and when she felt a hand grab hold of her hair and pull her roughly to her feet, she knew with a dreadful certainty that this was _no dream_.

The Diva Search winner opened her eyes, unable to bite back a whimper as they met the green irises of the Deadman. The Undertaker's face was unreadable, but Ashley somehow sensed that deep down, he was _enjoying_ this.

The Deadman reached up with his other hand, and Ashley struggled to free herself, mewling with terror. But instead of striking her, the Undertaker merely touched her face, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was icy, the faint aromas of smoke and earth still clinging to him. "Look at me," the tall man commanded. Ashley didn't comply. Her frightened eyes darted all around, looking at anything _but _the Deadman.

With a sudden brutal movement, the Undertaker grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. "_Look at me, girl_," the Deadman ordered, and this time, the rookie Diva had no choice but to obey.

The Undertaker studied her for a moment before continuing, his deep drawling voice devoid of any warmth or inflection. "Orton made the mistake of provoking me—and now…you will pay for his mistake. _You will burn…for his sins_."

"No…" Ashley whispered. Tears leaked from her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "No…_please_…"

The Deadman paid no attention to her pleas. He merely stared at her, turning her face to one side, then the other. "So beautiful…" the tall man remarked. His eyes bored into hers. "I can see why he loves you. I can see why he wants to protect you. He tried _so hard_ to hide you from me…but tell me, little girl—"

The Undertaker paused, leaning in until his nose practically touched hers. "_Who's going to save you now?"_

At this, Ashley's paralysis finally snapped, and she screamed; screamed until she thought her lungs were going to burst. She slammed her eyes closed, able no longer to meet the gaze of the Deadman. She felt his hold on her hair gradually relax, felt him move away from her. Still, however, the rookie Diva continued to scream, unable to curb her terror for even one instant.

Her strength abruptly left her, and she sagged toward the ground, her screams faded into silence. She heard the sound of rapid footsteps, followed by two sets of arms holding her up. Ashley lifted up her chin, feeling no small amount of relief at seeing Trish and Mickie on either side of her. The Diva Search winner could see a sparkling blackness unfolding at the edges of her vision and fought it, fought it with everything she still had left. She had survived the Deadman; she was not going to spoil it by keeling over.

Trish patted her face anxiously. "Oh my God, Ash! Are you all right? What happened?" Her voice sounded hollow, as though it was coming from far away.

Ashley shook her head, trying to clear the wooziness from her brain. "Did you see him?" she asked. It was difficult speaking; her tongue had somehow become too large for her mouth.

The Women's Champion frowned, peering hard at her protégé. "What? What're you talking about?"

She yelped as Ashley's fingers suddenly clamped hard around her arm. The rookie Diva stared at her, her pupils so large that they practically engulfed the irises. "_Did you see him_?" Ashley repeated, her voice thin with barely contained panic.

Mickie and Trish both glanced over their shoulders, then at each other, then at Ashley. "See _who_?" the Trish Stratus superfan eventually asked. "Ash…you were the only one here."

At this, Ashley's legs gave way and she slumped to the floor, Trish and Mickie simultaneously shrieking as they struggled to catch her. The Diva Search winner paid them no notice, however; she was too busy replaying the Deadman's final words to her in her head.

_Tell me, little girl…who's going to save you now?_


	28. Chapter 28: Take Me Away

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Once again, I apologize for the delay, but then again, my schedule is crap. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter; I've been looking forward to writing this chapter (and the one that follows) ever since I started the story. Enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **Souless666, -Nero-Moore-, xDarexToxDream, ShannonxMoore'sxLoverx, CerebralPrincess, iluvmycena, alethea293, Ashleymassarophan1, justbornawsome, Batista Addicts, MissMikkiMouse, xxxMusicPassionxxx, **and **Menaji** for reviewing! You are AWESOME! Love yas!

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Chapter 28: Take Me Away

Ashley wrapped the hotel blanket tighter around her shoulders, shivering. Even after a scalding hot shower, and even with the heater running full blast, the rookie Diva still couldn't get warm. Maybe after what she had witnessed tonight, she never _would_ be able to get warm again. The Deadman's touch seemed to have drained all the warmth from her body, and she felt hollow, as though some vital essence had been drained from her as well.

How stupid, how foolish she'd been, not to realize until now that it had been the Undertaker stalking her all this time. The extreme cold, the weird noises, the dead flowers, and above all, that _voice—_all of these fell within the Deadman's traditional _modus operendi _of intimidation. After all, hadn't she witnessed just a small facet of his powers while visiting Smackdown; when he'd been behind her one moment and then gone the next…

_THIS…is only the beginning…_

The Diva Search winner closed her eyes as the Undertaker's threat floated, unbidden, back into her conscious mind. At the memory of those icy fingers caressing her skin, the emotionless inflection of those words, Ashley began shaking, trembling so violently that her teeth were practically chattering.

She had no doubt that the Deadman meant every word that he had uttered. But if _this_ was only the beginning…then what additional horrors could possibly await her?

Ashley opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. The hotel room was small but cozy, decorated in soft pastel colors. Warm golden light emanated from a floor lamp in the corner, illuminating the space. The cheery atmosphere of the room, however, did nothing to settle the rookie Diva's disquiet. Nor did the presence of the three other Divas surrounding her.

Maria and Mickie sat on either side of Ashley on one of the double beds; Trish sat opposite them on the other. All three of them were staring at the Diva Search winner with a mixture of sympathy and skepticism. Ashley didn't blame them; she had just finished relating the story of her various encounters with the Undertaker, beginning with the first one back at SummerSlam. Somehow, even hearing the events in her own words didn't make them any less incredible…or insane.

Trish was the first one to react, rising to her feet and clasping her hands behind her back. Turning her back on the other three Divas, she slowly paced across the room toward the other side. Mickie must have interpreted this response as her cue to speak, because the brunette Diva abruptly cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "No offense, Ash…but it sounds a little…_crazy."_

_ You're one to talk, psycho…_Ashley though sourly to herself, but said nothing.

Mickie continued, her hyperactive demeanor subdued for once. "I mean…the _Undertaker_, _here_—"

From across the room, Trish's voice drifted over to them, her tone quiet but no less authoritative: "Be quiet, Mickie." The Raw Diva immediately complied, snapping her mouth shut in mid-sentence.

For a few awkward seconds, stillness once again reigned. Then, Maria spoke up, reaching over to touch Ashley's shoulder. "What…what're you going to do now?"

Ashley shook her head, her blond tresses falling over her face. Right now, all she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and shut out the rest of the world. "I don't know," the Diva Search winner whispered.

"I'll tell you what you're going to do," Trish interrupted, turning around to face them. Both Ashley and Maria looked up, shocked by the brusqueness of her tone. The Women's Champion strode toward them, her gaze fixed on Ashley. "You're going to go to sleep, you're going to forget about this—and in the morning, you're going to stay as far away from Randy Orton as you possibly can."

The Canadian beauty paused, shooting a glare at both Mickie and Maria. "No offense to any of you—but you have _no idea_ how bad this is. There is one person in this business that you _do not_, under _any_ circumstances, fuck with—and that's the Undertaker."

"But what about Randy?" Ashley surprised herself by speaking. The rookie Diva pulled the blanket even tighter around her body, staring up at her mentor.

Trish, too, seemed stunned at Ashley's sudden interjection, but she quickly recovered, her expression hardening at the mention of the Legend Killer's name. "What about him?" the Women's Champion replied indifferently, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ashley finger-combed her black-streaked locks back from her face. Her voice sounded small, hesitant, in her own ears; she felt like she had to shout to make herself heard. "He still thinks that he burned the Undertaker alive at No Mercy; he deserves to know—"

"_Deserves_?" Trish repeated, her tone both incredulous and sarcastic. "Randy brought this on himself. The only thing he _deserves_ is to have 'Taker do the same thing to _him_." Trish shook her head. "Ash, how many times do I have to explain it to you? Randy Orton is a cold-hearted bastard. He doesn't care about _you_; he doesn't care about _anyone—_"

"Don't you understand?" Now Ashley _was_ shouting, her indignant cry bursting from deep within her. Hot anger ripped through her body, scorching her insides, driving away the cold. Because she _was _angry, not just because of the Undertaker or Randy, not just because of her friends' doubtful pity at her situation, but also at Trish's inability to change her own stubborn opinions. The rookie Diva rose to her feet, still clutching the blanket around her. "The way Randy's been acting, the way he's treated me…he did it to protect me!"

"_Protect_ you?" Trish shot back. "_He's_ the reason you're even _in_ this mess! He dragged you into this shit; for all we know, he's just using you as _bait_. And the more—" She saw Ashley start to open her mouth, and quickly raised her voice, cutting the Diva Search winner off. "—the more you keep _defending _him, the deeper you're going to sink." The Women's Champion let out a sigh. "Look, whatever Randy's got planned, whatever big scheme he has to destroy the Undertaker for good—it's not going to work. And do you know why? Because in the end…the Deadman always wins."

Trish stepped forward, reaching out to tentatively grasp Ashley's shoulders. Her expression softened just a little. "Look, Ash, I like you, okay? But trust me when I say that you have _no idea_ how bad it can get in this business. Candice, Torrie, _Victoria_—that's _nothing_ compared to what could happen if the Undertaker ever gets hold of you." The Canadian beauty leaned forward a little, peering into Ashley's face. "Take my advice: call Matt, work things out…and forget all about Randy Orton."

For a moment, Ashley stared back at her, her expression unreadable. Then, with an abrupt motion, she pushed the blanket off her shoulders, shrugging away Trish's hands. She averted her gaze from the Woman's Champion, focusing instead on the nightstand between the two beds.

Trish looked over as well, her eyes growing wide when the rookie Diva snatched her cell phone off the wooden bedside table. "Ash…" Trish asked, her tone wary. "What are you doing—"

Ashley didn't seem to hear her. She instead elbowed her mentor aside, heading for the door. Just as she grasped the knob, however, Trish caught up with her, grabbing onto the Diva Search winner's wrist with both hands. "Ash," the Canadian beauty implored, her voice somewhere between reprimanding and pleading. "Listen to me—"

"Leave me alone," Ashley's reply was so frigid, so terse, and so completely unlike her that the Women's Champion froze, her mouth hanging agape. The rookie Diva wrenched her arm free of Trish's grip, throwing the door open and storming out into the hall. Trish was able to catch her final muttered remark just before the door slammed shut behind her: "I'm so fucking sick of this—"

* * *

She _was_ sick of this.

Ashley stomped down the hall, fuming. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt rage like this before: blank helpless rage that boiled up inside her without a person or object to direct itself on. All she knew, all she was certain of, was that she was angry.

So, _so_ angry.

The Diva Search winner glared at the printed wallpaper, imagining for a second that she saw the handsome features of Randy Orton within its pattern. Her fingers curled tight against her palm, and she swung her hand up, her knuckles connecting with the wall. Immediately, pain flared up her hand and arm, but Ashley ignored the sensation.

Instead, she snapped her head to the side, eying the opposite wall. Now it was Candice Michelle who stared back at her from the wallpaper, her beautiful features twisted in a haughty smirk. Without breaking stride, Ashley stepped to the side, slamming her other fist into that wall. The same physical response followed, but once again, the rookie Diva disregarded it. The pain was there, she could _feel_ it—and yet, at the same time, it didn't really seem to matter.

The only thing that mattered was this fury welling up inside her.

The Diva Search winner began talking to herself, weaving a promo that no one would ever hear, every other word punctuated by a punch to one of the two walls as she made her way down the hall: "I'm so sick—_so sick_—of _everybody_ thinking they can just _push _me around, that they can just _tell _me how to _feel_!"

Ashley stopped, letting out a harsh laugh. "Do this, Ash, do this!" she whined, adopting a parody of Trish's voice. "Hit this clothesline, nail that dropkick…love this guy! Love him because he's _nice_, and he's _sweet_, and he's _safe_, and because everyone else on the roster approves of him—but what about what _I _want?"

This last question was in her normal tone of voice. Ashley rolled her eyes heavenward, looking for answers even though she knew that none would be forthcoming. "I didn't ask for this, okay?" she whispered. "I didn't ask for _any_ of this—but whenever something happens or something goes wrong, everyone always looks at me as though it's _my_ fault. Whenever Matt loses his mind and throws me against the wall, _he's_ entitled—but when _I_ have second thoughts, I'm just a whore."

By now, Ashley had come to the end of the corridor. Just ahead of her was a steel door leading to the stairwell. The rookie Diva shoved the door open, her voice rising to a shout within the confines of the smaller space. "_It was just a stupid dare_! Why doesn't anyone _understand_ that? It was just a dare—it wasn't supposed to mean _anything_! I didn't know—"

At this, Ashley felt her anger abruptly drain out of her, as though someone had punctured a hole in her skin, and she slumped against the adjacent wall, sinking down to the floor. Her voice, when she spoke again, was barely audible: "—I didn't know that I would really care for him…or that he would feel the same way about me."

The Diva Search winner drew her knees up to her chest, burying her face in her arms. She didn't know how long she remained like that—curled up against the wall, shutting out the light—before she became aware of something gripped in her hand, and realized that she was still holding her cell phone.

Ashley held the small piece of electronic equipment up, studying it. It appeared to be undamaged—amazing, considering all those wall punches. With numb fingers, the rookie Diva flipped it open, locating her list of phone numbers and scrolling through until she landed on one number in particular.

Ashley stared at Randy's number, feeling an emotion that she could not identify. She had returned the shirt, the note; the flowers were in a landfill by now—but yet, this number remained; this string of ten ordinary digits that formed her last tenuous connection to the Legend Killer. Every time she encountered this number, the Diva Search winner told herself that she needed to erase it—but every time she attempted to do so, she found that she couldn't.

She couldn't erase Randy's number from her phone any more than she could eradicate him from her heart.

Ashley brought the cell phone up to her face until her nose was almost grazing the screen. "Tell me what to do," the rookie Diva pleaded. "You got me into this—you're the reason I'm in the middle of something that isn't even my fault."

She closed her eyes, feeling a tear work its way down her cheek. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "What _should_ I do?"

But there was no answer.

As always—there was no answer.

* * *

Ashley gripped her suitcase behind her with both hands as she trudged across the parking area of the Joe Louis Arena, Maria and Mickie keeping pace on either side of her. All three Divas were silent, though the latter two were keeping quiet out of respect for the Diva Search winner more than anything else.

By all rights, they should have been celebrating: just as she'd promised, Trish had successfully defended her Women's Championship against SmackDown's paparazzi princess. Additionally, their interpromotional match—one of three that night—had been Raw's sole victory. But Ashley really didn't care. The brand war meant nothing to her, her relationship with Trish had been strained since last week—and in terms of Survivor Series, the only image that stood out in her mind with any clarity was the pay-per-view's conclusion.

Randy Orton, the sole survivor of the SmackDown team, balanced on the shoulders of his celebrating roster, his handsome face effused with pride and elation—an expression that immediately vanished at the sound of an all-too-familiar church bell.

Ashley could still remember it, could recall those few minutes far better than the entire pay-per-view. The ring bathed in darkness as the lights cut out. The chanting of the cloaked druids as they wheeled out the casket. A crack of lightning, flames—and then the Undertaker, emerging from the fire like some kind of demonic specter.

The rookie Diva couldn't describe the stark terror that had seized her at that moment, or the screams she'd had to swallow with difficulty. At that moment, she'd reverted to being five years old ago, terrified of the monster underneath the bed.

Only this time…the monster was real.

More than the fear, more even than the memory of the Undertaker, the Diva Search winner remembered the look on Randy's face; it was as though he was looking at a ghost—or perhaps, more accurately, at his fate. It was a countenance that Ashley recognized—because she had worn it as well.

What would have happened, if she _had_ warned him? If she had told him that his nemesis was still alive? Would it have really changed anything?

Would it have made this moment any less horrifying?

Ashley hear her name being called from a great distance, but she ignored it. It wasn't until she saw, out of the corner of her eyes, Maria and Mickie stop and look over at her that the rookie Diva realized that the voice was real this time. She paused as well, looking up. Her blue-green irises widened with astonishment at Dave Batista striding toward her, his sharply-featured face fixed in an expression of impatient concern.

The Animal halted in front of the trio, and without so much as a greeting, he jabbed his index finger at Ashley. "_You_—come with me."

The Diva Search winner involuntarily backed up a pace or two, her countenance twisting into one of mild disdain. "What? With _you_?" Ashley rapidly shook her head. "No way—"

"You don't understand," The World Heavyweight Champion's tone was brusque, and left no room for negotiation. "It's _Randy_."

Ashley felt her heart flutter to a stop inside her chest, the irritation draining from her face. Batista took this as a sign that she was listening and went on. "He's messed up—has been ever since he stumbled backstage. He keeps mumbling a lot of shit that doesn't make sense, most of it about 'Taker—but one thing he keeps repeating is your name."

By now, both Maria and Mickie were staring at the rookie Diva with obvious interest; Ashley could feel their gazes pressing against her skin. It took an extraordinary amount of effort to block them out and focus only on the Animal. The World Heavyweight Champion continued. "Look, between you and me—the last place you need to be is in the middle of this Deadman shit. But _this_…this is serious, and I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that you're the only one who can get through to him."

Ashley didn't even hesitate; she just marched forward without even glancing back at her two companions. Batista followed her--not before shooting the other two Divas an appreciative glance, that is. Both Maria and Mickie blinked, their mouths dropping open in shock. Too stunned to move, they watched as Ashley and the Animal walked out into the outer parking area, fading into the night.

At this, Maria's paralysis snapped and she left go of her suitcase, twisting her hands together in front of her. "Oh shit, _oh shit_!" the backstage reporter wailed, her pretty face panicked. "What're we going to do? What's Trish going to say?"

Mickie opened her mouth to answer, when a new voice interrupted them. "What am I going to say about what?"

Both Divas spun around, gulping visibly at the sight of the Women's Champion. Trish looked from one to the other, her amiable expression slowly growing suspicious. "What's…going on?" she asked cautiously.

Maria tried to think of something to say, but words failed her; for once, she truly felt as dumb as the persona she portrayed on television. "Um…" the backstage reporter stammered. "Um—"

To her surprise, Mickie answered the question, her voice full of its usual effervescence and betraying none of her nervousness. "We were just wondering how you'd feel about the two of us taking you out for drinks. I mean, _hello_!" The brunette Diva rolled her eyes as though the reason was obvious. "You won tonight! You're still the Champion! You whipped that bitch's butt!"

The Women's Champion laughed, pushing her blond hair back from her face. "I guess you're right. Okay: you're on—just as soon as I find Ash." The Canadian beauty looked around the parking area, her smile fading. "Where…where _is_ Ash, anyway?"

Maria felt panic take hold of her once more, and was about a half-second away from giving up and blurting out the truth when Mickie surprised her once again: "Ash? I think—no, I definitely saw her leave with Matt." The Raw Diva tilted her head to the side, biting her lip. "They looked like they were having a pretty serious conversation."

Trish's face relaxed, and she grinned once again. "Thank God!" she exclaimed. "I've been so worried about those two. After what happened at Halloween—" The Women's Champion's voice trailed off, and for just an instant, her smile faltered. But just as quickly, the Canadian beauty recovered her former elation. "Well, what're we waiting for, then? I won the match tonight, so…" She pointed at the other two Divas. "_You two _are buying."

With that, Trish sidled past them, heading toward their rental car. Mickie turned to follow, but as she did, she winked at Maria, a mischievous grin touching her lips.

Maria stared at her for a moment, unable to keep a similar smile from curving up the corners of her own mouth. _Not so crazy after all…_the backstage reporter thought to herself as the two of them ran to catch up with Trish.

* * *

Batista didn't move particularly fast, but he did possess an enormous stride, making it extremely difficult to keep pace with him. Ashley almost had to run to keep up. However, as she kept her gaze focused on the broad back of the World Heavyweight Champion, her mind was not on him…but rather, on Randy.

Randy…as well as the man now after them both.

She understood now that the Undertaker had to have been watching them on that first day, that first encounter back at Summerstam. He had seen Randy with her—and somehow, he had known even then that she was different. A man with no conscience, no soul, a man who maybe wasn't even human—and yet he had seen what she and Randy couldn't even admit to themselves, let alone each other.

She also realized that her terrifying encounter with the Deadman back then hadn't been a threat, or even a warning—it had been a _chance_. A chance to escape, to walk away unscathed. 'Taker had given her the opportunity back then to get away… and every weird occurrence since then, every strange event that had scared the shit out of her—those had been chances, too.

But Ashley had refused. Just like everyone else, she had ignored the Undertaker's warnings and barreled on ahead, until now, there was no chance of turning back. So what was the point, really, of staying away; of going back to Matt and forgetting all this? Why bother when it was too late—too late for any of them?

They were lost. She, Randy, and the Undertaker—they were all lost.

The Animal cleared his throat, jarring Ashley out of her reverie. The rookie Diva jumped a little. They had arrived at the rental car; Batista—in a show of chivalry he had probably never shown _any_ woman—had grudgingly opened the back door for her. Ashley brushed past him, sliding into the backseat, leaving the World Heavyweight Champion to stow her suitcase in the trunk.

The first thing she saw was Randy, huddled in the far corner of the back seat. The second was the passenger in the front seat, who turned and offered her a warm smile. "So you must be Ashley," Cowboy Bob Orton drawled. "Can't say I've heard a lot about you—but then again, I think my son had his reasons for doing that." He cast a concerned look in Randy's direction. The Legend Killer was indeed "messed up", to quote Batista. He seemed to be in the throes of a horrific nightmare: his eyes were closed, and he kept tossing and turning in his seat, mumbling to himself.

Ashley blushed, reaching down to smooth her skirt with both hands. If she had known that she would be in the same car as a Hall of Famer—more than that, Randy's _father_—she would have tried not to show up still clad in her usual Diva attire of short skirt and low-cut top.

But then again, she hadn't planned on _any_ of this happening—and right now, her concern was for Randy, not what his father might be thinking of her.

Ashley inched closer to the Legend Killer. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers grazing Randy's face. "Randy?" the Diva Search winner whispered. When there was no response, she moved even nearer, resting her palm against his cheek. "Randy?" she repeated, a little louder this time.

The Legend Killer's eyes flew open, and it unnerved Ashley to see those azure irises so full of pure terror. For a few seconds, he looked around wildly, as though unsure of his surroundings. Then, his gaze finally fell on the rookie Diva, and Ashley saw his muscular frame visibly relax. "Ash?" the former World Heavyweight Champion murmured.

Ashley smiled, feeling tears sting her eyes. "I'm here, Randy," she replied. "I'm here."

With a sudden swift motion, Randy sat up, wrapping his arms around the Diva Search winner and pulling her against him. As soon as her head hit his chest, Ashley felt an extraordinary sense of peace fall over her. _This…_this was where she belonged. Wrapped in Randy's embrace—_this _was where she was meant to be.

She heard a deliberate cough from the driver's seat, followed by Batista's impatient: "Where to?"

Ashley let her eyes drift closed, lulled by the security she felt in Randy's arms. "Away..." the rookie Diva murmured. "Take us away from here…"


	29. Chapter 29: You Wash Over Me

**A/N: OMG, NEW CHAPTER! I have to apologize; this semester broke me HARD, and once it ended, there were the holidays to contend with. Plus, I spent a lot of time with this chapter, b/c this really is one that I wanted to make perfect before posting. I really really hope that you enjoy it; it was actually a lot of fun to write, and I have been looking forward to it for a while. Okay, enough babbling! Enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **CerebralPrincess, ShannonxMoore'sxLoverx, Batista Addicts, xxxMusicPassionxxx, xDarexToxDreamx, Ashleymassarophan1, Menaji, justbornawsome, MissMikkiMouse, **and** rory21 **for reviewing the last chapter! Love yas all very much!

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Chapter 29: You Wash Over Me

Candice Michelle was in a bad mood.

For starters, she hadn't made a single on-camera appearance during the entire pay-per-view.

Not _one_.

The thought alone made the brunette Diva press her full lips together in a pout. It wasn't fair; _she _was the hottest female on either Raw _or_ SmackDown. After all, _she _was the one in all of those Go Daddy commercials--and if the rumors were to be believed, a future cover of Playboy as well. But yet, when the matches for Survivor Series were booked, Candice had been passed over for that has-been Trish Stratus. Trish, who had never appeared in Playboy--and probably never would, from the way time was marching across her face.

All because Trish was the Women's Champion--a _technicality_, in Candice's opinion. If holding the title had been based on sheer physical attractiveness, the brunette Diva would have been Champion back while she was still competing in the Diva Search.

Candice's dark eyes narrowed as she pondered the thought. One day, things would be different. One day, it would be _her_ holding the championship belt, not some bleached blond from _Canada._

But Candice's troubles hadn't ended at the arena. Upon arriving at their hotel, she and Torrie had learned at the front desk that their reservations had somehow mysteriously disappeared. Torrie--ever the diplomatic one--had seized control of the situation, and was presently arguing with the desk clerk. Candice--who didn't give a shit about diplomacy--had chosen to stand a few feet away, slouching against a pillar, arms crossed over her ample chest, pretty face twisted in a scowl.

The brunette sighed, letting her breath out in an impatient huff. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't _fair_--

Her self-pitying train of thought abruptly ceased as a group of figures stepped through the main door. Two of them appeared to be bolstering up a third, while a fourth trailed closely behind. Candice shoved her designer sunglasses--worn to ward off any would-be admirers--up on top of her head, peering closely at the new arrivals.

Her mouth dropped open in shock and the Raw Diva let out a gasp. No _way_; it _couldn't be_--

Without taking her eyes off the foursome, Candice sidled over to her friend's side, tugging on her coat sleeve the way a small child might. "Torrie--"

Torrie quickly yanked her arm free of Candice's grasp. "Not now, Candy!" the Boise Belle hissed, sounding annoyed. Rolling her eyes, Torrie turned her attention back to the front desk clerk, fixing a phony smile on her face. The clerk--a heavyset woman in her late forties--stared impassively back at her. The blond Diva rummaged around in her purse, resisting the urge to reach across the counter and strangle the woman. "I've got the computer reservation right here in my purse, so if you could just check again--"

Instead of taking the hint, however, Candice grabbed hold of Torrie's sleeve once more, tugging at it even harder. "_Torrie_!" the Go Daddy spokesmodel exclaimed in a loud whisper, her tone insistent.

Torrie fragile thread of patience finally broke, and she whirled around, glaring at her friend. "_What_?" the Boise Belle snapped, planting her hands on her hips.

Candice, unfazed by the other Diva's ire, merely pointed in the direction of the elevators. Fighting the impulse to smack her, Torrie obligingly turned and looked.

The first thing she saw was the World Heavyweight Champion, which was no surprise--Batista's size and impressive physique made him the natural center of attention. The second thing she saw was the person he was supporting--a person she gradually recognized as Randy Orton.

In all the years she had known the Legend Killer, Torrie could honestly say that she had never seen him like this. Randy was confident, arrogant--even after a loss, he still exuded an aura of self-assurance. The individual limping toward the elevators looked like a broken man, like someone who had just had the spirit crushed out of him.

Unusual, intriguing to say the least--but hardly worth the interruption.

Torrie was about to turn back toward Candice, fully intending to lambast her friend for the unnecessary disruption, when she noticed another member of the tableau, almost blocked by Randy and the hovering figure of his Hall of Fame daddy, her slender arm wrapped around the waist of the Legend Killer.

Torrie recognized the black highlights almost instantly.

Both she and Candice watched in silence as the elevator doors slid back, allowing Batista and Ashley to help Randy into the compartment. Neither the Legend Killer nor the rookie Diva noticed their presence, but just before the doors closed, the Animal spotted them, his sharply-featured face immediately twisting into a lascivious leer.

The two Divas glanced at each other, their mouths curving upward in identical sly smirks. "_Well_," Torrie drawled after a few seconds had elapsed. "_This_ is interesting."

Candice rolled her eyes toward the elevator, then back to Torrie. "Think he'll be back?" the brunette Diva asked, her tone almost insolent.

Torrie's smirk widened, became a smile. It would have been warm, almost inviting--if not for the icy quality of her eyes. "If he's not--then you're obviously losing your touch."

* * *

Cowboy Bob opened the door and snapped on the light, stepping aside so that Batista and Ashley could manuever Randy through the doorway. The Legend Killer was better than he had been in the car--in the sense that he had stopped mumbling to himself. Unfortunately, he was still practically catatonic, barely aware of his surroundings. He leaned against Ashley like dead weight; if the Animal hadn't been there to hold him, the Diva Search would have collapsed under Randy's nearly-unconscious mass.

But she didn't let go of him. She hadn't let go of the Legend Killer since getting into the car...just like he hadn't let go of her.

_A month ago, I would have done anything to keep him from touching me..._the rookie Diva thought to herself. _And now I know why--now that he's holding me, I never want him to stop. I feel like...like I'll die if he doesn't touch me._

_Maybe I will. Maybe we'll both die if we aren't together--because maybe we're both what the other one needs..._

With Batista's help, she laid Randy out on one of the room's double beds. The World Heavyweight Champion stepped back, staring cluelessly at his former Evolution teammate, obviously unsure of what to do next. Ashley, meanwhile, moved with the brisk efficiency of a nurse: removing Randy's shoes, pulling back the covers, propping his head up on a pillow. Randy's azures eyes, which had taken on a glazed, unfocused appearance, finally closed, and he seemed to settle into a tentative kind of sleep.

Ashley let out a low sigh of relief. Sitting back on her haunches, she glanced back at Batista. The Animal stared down at the floor, shuffling his feet back and forth. "Looks like you've got everything covered." He looked back up at her, and there was relief in his expression, as though he was grateful that he no longer had to assume responsibility in the situation."Well...think I'll head out." The World Heavyweight Champion turned, heading for the door.

The Diva Search winner's mouth dropped open in shock. "_What_?" she exclaimed, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Randy. She gestured down at the slumbering Legend Killer. "_He_ just had a nervous breakdown--and _you're _just going to _leave_ him?"

Batista turned back, the relief in his countenance already giving way to that obnoxious confidence she had seen in him before. "Don't worry," the Animal replied. He nodded his head toward Cowboy Bob. "His dad's here; between the two of you, I'm sure he'll be fine." Before Ashley could offer an indignant retort, the World Heavyweight Champion had already left, closing the door behind him.

Ashley rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. _Unbelievable_. She didn't get the chance to voice her sentiments, however, as the Hall of Famer beat her to it. "What a prick," Cowboy Bob remarked, rolling his eyes as well. He turned his attention back to the rookie Diva. "Never understood what my son saw in him." He glanced at Randy, and his face softened in fatherly concern.

Ashley followed suit, gazing tenderly at the Legend Killer. A few long moments of silence passed before the Hall of Famer cleared his throat. "Listen," Cowboy Bob began. "I'm going to get out of your hair," At Ashley's pointed look, he quickly raised his hands. "Don't worry; I'm just right down the hall--Room 302--and if there's any problem, _anything_, you come knocking, okay?" He glanced at Randy again, and once more, there was that flash of involuntary love in his face. "I think..." The Hall of Famer hesitated. "I think that what my son needs now is _you_, not his old man hovering in the corner." He clasped his hands uncertainly behind his back, turning to go.

"Do you..." Cowboy Bob paused, looking back at Ashley expectantly. The Diva Search winner swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "This thing...with the Undertaker--" At the mention of the Deadman's name, a shiver ran down the length of her spine, and out of the corner of her eye, Ashley thought she saw a similar tremor grip the Legend Killer's lean frame. But the rookie Diva choked back her fear and barrelled on: "--do you think...that Randy can win?"

Cowboy Bob didn't say anything at first, but Ashley could see his response in the way that he stood, in the way that he averted his gaze from her. The Hall of Famer pressed his lips together; when he looked up, his focus was on Randy, not her. "You know," the elder Orton remarked. "When I was his age, I was just like him--all I cared about was making a name for myself."

"What changed?" Ashley's voice was so soft that even she barely heard it.

Cowboy Bob's gaze swung back to her, as though remembering her presence. "I realized that there are some things that are more important than building a legacy. I mean..." He paused for a moment. "What's the point of being a legend if you're all alone?" The Hall of Famer coughed quietly, though whether it was to clear his throat or force back tears, Ashley wasn't sure.

The elder Orton's eyes bored into hers. "When Randy wakes up--you make sure he understands that." With that, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him--and leaving Ashley all alone with the Legend Killer.

The rookie Diva looked down, her eyes drinking every line, every angle of Randy's body. Her gaze slid up to his face; he looked so different while he was sleeping. In sleep, there was none of the coldness, none of the cruelty, the indifference, that seemed to coat his every word, every action nowadays. Here, lying in front of her, he looked less like a Legend Killer and more like a scared little boy.

_You can't even save yourself..._

Had she said that once, in the heat of an argument, trying to wound him? If so, she wanted desperately to take it back, because it was clear to her that he couldn't. Randy had chosen to go after the Undertaker, and in doing so, had turned his back on everyone and everything. He had begun a one-man siege that in turn had alienated him from everyone else--in some ways, he was more alone that Ashley would ever be.

The Diva Search winner reached over, squeezing Randy's hand in hers, a single irrational thought echoing in her mind:

_I won't leave him. No matter what happens after this, I won't leave him..._

Ashley inched along the edge of the bed, reaching up to switch off the bedside lamp. As she did so, a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist and the rookie Diva gasped.

"Ash?"

Randy's voice was so soft, so unsure, that for a second, Ashley was sure that she had imagined it. She turned, feeling that familiar jolt inside when her eyes met Randy's azure irises. The Legend Killer had propped himself on one elbow, one hand gripping her wrist. The look in his eyes was pleading, almost frantic. "Please..." He licked his lips, tried again. "Please...don't leave me..."

Ashley shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. "I won't," the Diva Search winner whispered.

Randy stared at her for a few moments, his face scanning her face as he processed this quiet assent. Abruptly, he fell back onto the bed as though exhausted, his eyes drifting closed. His hold on her wrist relaxed, and she felt his hand trail down along hers, felt their fingers entwine. "Stay with me, please..." the Legend Killer murmured. "Don't leave..."

With her free hand, Ashley fumbled for the light, eventually locating the switch and throwing the room into shadowy dimness. She stretched out beside Randy, curling up against him, nestling her body in the curve of his. The rookie Diva reached up, touching his face, hearing his breathing become deep and even as he slipped into sleep--a _real_ sleep this time.

"I'll never leave you. I promise..."

A moment later, sleep claimed her as well.

* * *

Ashley wasn't sure how long she slept--a few minutes or a few hours--before she was jolted violently awake by something thrashing beside her. It took her a moment or two to orient herself and realize that the "something" was Randy, deep in the midst of another nightmare.

The Legend Killer moaned as he tossed and turned from side to side. Words escaped from his mouth; Ashley could only make out a few of them:

"No...get away...you're dead...you're fucking dead...I saw you burn..."

Ashley rubbed her eyes, all sleepiness instantly dispelled in the presence of Randy's nocturnal terror. If she didn't wake him, there was a strong possibility that he would hurt himself--or maybe even her, inadvertantly. The rookie Diva took hold of Randy's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Randy?" There was no answer; the Legend Killer continued to toss about on the bed. Ashley tried again, shaking harder this time. "Randy!"

Still no response, no indication that he had emerged from the horrifying labyrinth of his subconscious. Ashley pushed her hair back from her face with both hands, as she racked her brain for a solution. Somehow, she had to wake Randy up.

Grunting with exertion, she pushed the Legend Killer over, rolling him onto his back. Slipping one leg over him, she straddled his body, reaching down to grab his shoulders with both hands and shaking him as hard as she could. "Randy! Wake up!"

Like a drowning man breaking through the water's surface, Randy woke up, his blue eyes flying open, his body arching off the bedspread as he drew in a hoarse panicked breath. For a second or two, he remained disoriented, his eyes darting everywhere as he struggled to take in his surroundings.

Gradually, his gaze came to rest on her and Ashley saw his body relax, heard the breath escape from him in a low relieved sigh. "Ash..." the former World Heavyweight Champion whispered. "You're here..."

In spite of herself, Ashley felt herself smile. She let go of Randy's shoulders, reaching over to touch his face. When her fingertips grazed his skin, the Legend Killer groaned softly, turning toward her hand. His warm breath caressed her palm, and the rookie Diva felt a low pulse of desire course through her insides. "Of course I'm here," she replied after a second or two. "I said that I'd stay, didn't I?"

Randy stared up at her, his expression half-bewilderment, half-wonder. "Why?" he finally asked, his brows coming together in a puzzled frown. "Why would you stay? Why would you do _anything_ for me--after the way I treated you?"

The Diva Search winner slowly shook her head. "It doesn't matter now--"

"Yes, it _does_!" Randy's voice was low but insistent. Without warning, he grabbed her hand, pressing his lips to the soft skin of her inner wrist. The feeling of his mouth against her skin made Ashley's stomach clench with need, and she averted her gaze, a soft gasp escaping her.

The Legend Killer went on, emotion quivering at the edges of his deep voice. "It matters to _me_, because _you_ matter to _me_!" Randy let go of her wrist, propping himself up on his elbows as he stared at her. "Everyone else thinks that I'm a bastard--and maybe they're right. Maybe I am. But I don't give a damn about them; the other person I give a _damn_ about is _you_! Your face, your eyes--they're all I ever see anymore. _You're _all I ever see anymore."

The Legend Killer sagged back down onto the bed, still talking. "Your boyfriend was right: I _am_ selfish." At the mention of Matt, Ashley felt nothing; only a dull stab of pain. "I wanted you all to myself; I've _always_ wanted you all to myself. But I fucked it up. I pushed you away--when I should have let you inside."

Randy turned his head toward the window, staring dully at the sliver of orange sky visible through the drawn curtains. "I'm alone now. I _deserve_ to be alone. And you..." Ashley couldn't see it, but she could feel his gaze on her face. "You deserve to be happy with someone other than me." A bolt of electricity raced through her body as his hand tentatively touched hers. "Ash, you deserve so much better than me--"

The rookie Diva yanked her hand away, reaching up to comb her hair back from her face. Tears were in her eyes; any second now, they would spill down her cheeks. "Yeah, well, I don't want _better_," Ashley retorted. She looked down at Randy, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. "I don't want someone else--I want _you_!" She hesitated for an instant. "I--"

The words were on her lips, ready to be vocalized. Three words, three short syllables--all she had to do was say them...and nothing would ever be the same.

_Ash, think about this..._The irritating little voice was back, making its presence known at the most inopportune of times. _Think about what you're doing. If you do this...there's no going back..._

But Ashley didn't care.

It was too late. From the moment she had first met Randy Orton...it had been too late.

"I...I love you."

For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then, Randy stirred, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Ashley was still straddling his lap, her legs locked around his waist. Their eyes never left one another's. Slowly, almost reverently, the Legend Killer reached up, cupping her cheek in his hand, running his thumb over the curve of her lower lip. Sliding his hand to the back of her neck, he pulled her to him, capturing her mouth with his.

The kiss was soft, gentle, almost chaste. As Randy drew back, Ashley moaned, arching her body toward his, craving his touch the way a flower craves the light. She felt his hand glide down over her neck, her shoulder, lingering briefly at her breast, before coming to rest at the three buttons holding her shirt in place.

Randy's mouth was on her neck now, his tongue trailing lightly against her skin. He fumbled momentarily with the buttons, before succeeding in unfastening them. Ashley felt the light brush of fabric against her skin as he pushed the shirt off her shoulders and down her arms, running his hands up her now-bare back.

Ashley opened her eyes, meeting Randy's. Even here, in the dim light, she felt as though she could see him--_really_ see him--for the first time. A tear trickled down her cheek. Randy caught it as it reached her chin, wiping it away with his thumb. "Don't cry, Ash," the Legend Killer murmured. His hand was still on her face, he was leaning closer now. "Don't ever cry--"

Their mouths met again; hard, passionate, greedy. With a low growl of need, Randy wrapped his arms around her body, and they fell back down onto the bed, already fumbling at each other's clothing.

* * *

The World Heavyweight Champion laughed, leaning back a bit in his chair. The sound of it was just a little too loud and a little too long, but the Animal had consumed enough alcohol not to care. All of his attention, all of his focus, was on the bewitching brunette seated next to him.

"Come on, it's a serious question!" Batista paused, taking a swig from his glass before continuing. "How is it that a smoking hot babe like you _doesn't_ have a boyfriend?"

Candice shrugged, her lips touching the rim of her glass. "Oh, _you know_," She took a sip, and then set the glass back on the counter, rotating her body around to face the World Heavyweight Champion. "All the guys on Raw--they're so _immature_. Now, _SmackDown_--" The Go Daddy spokesmodel lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. "_--That's_ where the _real _men are." To punctuate her statement, she reached over, suggestively resting her hand on the Animal's massive thigh.

It didn't take much to attract Dave Batista's attention--all Candice had had to do was take off her coat, tug her top down an inch or two, and apply a fresh coat of lip gloss. About five minutes after she'd first spotted him in the lobby, the World Heavyweight Champion had returned, making a beeline right for her, and it hadn't been long after that before he asked her to join him for a drink.

Right now, the two of them were seated in a dark corner of the hotel bar, and while Candice certainly wasn't sober, she wasn't nearly as intoxicated as the Animal thought she was. Instead, she sipped her drinks slowly, watching Batista drink himself into a state of inebriation, taking advantage of his lack of inhibition to subtly steer the conversation where she wanted it to go.

Her only hope was that the World Heavyweight Champion would actually pass out before she had to sleep with him, but if not--well, it wouldn't be the _worst _thing she had ever done.

Candice locked her hands behind her back, pretending to stretch, but really just using it as an opportunity to shove her cleavage into the Animal's face. A sidelong glance took her that she had been successful--Batista was openly ogling her chest; it was only with effort that he forced his gaze back up to her face. "Really?" the World Heavyweight Champion remarked, his voice growing husky. "Like who?"

Candice tapped her chin, pretending to ponder the question. "Well, like..." She let the question trail off, her eyes sweeping over the physique of the Animal. Batista leaned forward a little, already anticipating that she would say his name. Candice leaned forward, until her mouth was almost touching his. Just before their lips could meet, she added: "...Randy Orton."

The Animal blinked, sitting back in his chair. "Are you _serious_?" he finally replied, his voice full of disbelief and incredulity--just as Candice hoped it would be. After a second or two, however, Batista shook his head, an amused smile touching his mouth. "Hate to break it to you, angel--but that boy's taken."

Candice adopted a look of hurt indignation, even though inside, she was elated. "Really?" the brunette Diva shot back, pouting. "Since when?"

The World Heavyweight Champion chuckled, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling. "Don't tell me that you've never seen him and Ashley Massaro together."

"What, the little punk princess?" The contempt in Candice's voice was real--_that_, at least, she did not have to fake. The Go Daddy spokesmodel shook her head, her dark curls bouncing against her cheeks. "I don't believe it."

"Well, believe it, sweetheart," Batista grinned, apparently pleased by the fact that he had gotten under her skin. "Because I drove the two of them here tonight, and they could not keep their _hands_ off of each other. In fact--"

The Animal paused and looked around, even though there was no one in the bar save the two of them and the bartender. Nevertheless, Batista lowered his voice. "--they're up there right now--" He pointed upward at the ceiling. "--only they're probably not doing a whole lot of _sleeping_...if you know what I mean."

The World Heavyweight Champion suddenly slammed his hand down on the counter, startling Candice and causing the glasses to dance. "But, dammit, after the past couple months that boy has had--he _deserves _to get laid. So let's drink to that." Batista raised his nearly empty glass in preparation for a toast. "Let's drink to Randy getting laid."

Candice raised her glass as well...but only so she could hide her triumphant smile. "By all means," the brunette Diva drawled. "_Let's drink to that_..."

* * *

_He was walking down the empty corridor of an arena. Which arena, he didn't know--all of them looked the same to him; cinderblock walls, cement floors, labyrinthian hallways leading to nothing. But for some reason, there was something different about THIS one. _

_Something off._

_Something wrong._

_But what?_

_He didn't know how long he walked, or how many corridors he turned down before it came to him: this arena was deserted. By now, he should have encountered another Superstar, or a technician, or an intern, or SOMETHING, but there was no one. More than that, there was no indication that people had even been here. No crates, no equipment, not even so much as a folding chair._

_He was alone...and yet, at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed, that someone was watching him from just beyond the corner. _

_But that was ridiculous, because he was alone...right?_

_**So it's come down to this.**_

_Randy jumped as the Undertaker's voice reverberated in his head. He whirled around, but as before, the hallway behind him was empty. The Legend Killer swallowed hard, tamping down his fear, compressing it into a tiny ball as he'd done countless times before. "Come down to what, old man?" he retorted, pleased at how confident and self-assured his voice sounded. "You're the one who doesn't seem to realize that it's over."_

_**Over? You're the one who locked me in a casket, Randy. You're the one who set it on fire. You've crossed a line--one that you can't come back from.**_

"_So what?" Randy shot back, his eyes still scanning every inch of his surroundings as he spoke. "What does it matter? You're finished, Deadman. I'm not like everyone else; I'm not going to back down like everyone else." He shook his head. "I'm not afraid of you."_

_**What about her?**_

_At the mention of Ashley, Randy felt his blood run cold, and it took everything he had not to let his emotions show on his face. "Who?" he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible._

_**You know.**_

_Randy scoffed. "You're wasting your time, old man, you know that?" The corner of his mouth curled up in a sneer. "She means nothing to me."_

_**Really?**_

_Randy waited for the rest of the retort, but there was nothing. Only silence. For the first time, the Legend Killer became aware of how quiet it was. No voices, no machinery, not even the hum of the heating system. He was trapped in a void, one which not even sound could penetrate. _

"_Randy?"_

_The Legend Killer whirled around, his blue eyes widening at the sight of Ashley. The rookie Diva was dressed much as she had been the first time they met, in white bikini bottoms and an oversized "R.K.O." t-shirt. She moved toward him, her beautiful face lighting up in a smile. "Who are you talking to?"_

_Randy opened his mouth to answer her, but stopped, his attention captured by something else. Behind Ashley, the hallway lights were shutting down row by row, casting the space beneath them into darkness. As the Legend Killer watched, the progression of darkness moved toward them, halting just a few inches from the Diva Search winner's turned back._

_Randy felt a feeling of absolute dread take hold of him, the sensation that something awful was on the verge of happening. He moved toward Ashley, stretching out his hand imploringly to her. "Ash, get away from there--"_

_Suddenly, hands shot out of the blackness, grabbing hold of the rookie Diva. One wrenched her arms behind her back, while the other covered her mouth, preventing her from screaming. _

"_No!" The shout tore from Randy's mouth. "Let her go!" He tried to run toward Ashley, but found that he couldn't; his feet seemed to have been glued to the floor. As he watched, unable to move, unable to intercede, the owner of the hands emerged from the dark void. The Undertaker's face was barely visible from beneath the brim of his black hat; Randy could only make out his mouth as he spoke:_

_**So she means nothing to you? Is that what you'll tell her--that she meant nothing? Will that be the lie you tell, when she lies broken at your feet?**_

"_Let her go..." There was no confidence in Randy's voice anymore, only pleading. He sank down to his knees, staring defiantly at the Deadman. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you--"_

_**You provoked me--and now she will pay.**_

_The Undertaker's hand tightened over Ashley's mouth, his fingers sinking into her flesh. The Diva Search winner struggled to free herself, her screams emerged only as muffled cries. _

_**Remember Randy...as long as I can get to her, I can get to you.**_

_Randy looked over at Ashley. For one moment, her frightened blue-green irises met his--and then without warning, the Deadman yanked her back into the darkness._

"_No!" Randy tried to run, tried to chase after them, but he couldn't; couldn't do anything more than scream. "Ash! Ashley--"_

With a strangled cry, Randy sat up, clawing blindly at the darkness. For a moment, he was still back in that unnaturally silent corridor, watching powerlessly as Ashley was taken from him--and then the dream melted away, leaving him wide-eyed and panting for breath.

The Legend Killer looked around, still distrustful of his surroundings. After all, this could be another dream, another trick. But then he glanced down at the sleeping figure beside him, and Randy gradually felt his panic melt away. This was no dream; he was safe, he was where he belonged--next to the woman he belonged with.

His nightmare hadn't woken Ashley; her breathing was still deep and even. A lock of blond hair had fallen across her cheek; Randy pushed it back, tucking it behind her ear. Ashley stirred a little at his touch, and the Legend Killer lay back down next to her, gathering her in his arms. The Diva Search winner moaned, snuggling closer to him. "Randy? What is it?"

"Nothing, Ash," Randy replied softly. He touched her cheek, running his fingers along the curve of her face. "Just a dream..."

This answer seemed to satisfy Ashley, and she sighed, her body relaxing as she drifted back toward sleep. Her lips moved, whispering something that only he could hear: "I love you..."

The Legend Killer's face creased in pain, and he pressed his lips to Ashley's forehead, burying his hands in her long hair. "I know..." he murmured. "I know..."

Part of him wanted to sleep, to drift off as Ashley had done, but he was still too haunted by the memory of the nightmare to do so. He couldn't get those images out of his mind--the look of pure terror in Ashley's eyes as she was dragged into the darkness, the cold neutrality of the Undertaker's voice as he spoke--

_As long as I can get to her, I can get to you..._

He was right; that was the kicker. Smoke and mirrors aside, it didn't change the fact that the Undertaker was right. For two years now, the Legend Killer had earned his nickname by going after opponents without fear or remorse. But now he had something, something that he could not risk losing. Ashley Massaro had become his weakness--and if he was to remain the Legend Killer, if he hoped to defeat the Undertaker, then he could not afford to have any weaknesses.

If he had a weakness, then he was weak. And if he was weak, then how could he hope to protect her? How could he keep her safe, if he couldn't even save himself? He had dared to hope, he had allowed himself to feel--and now, as a result, he had put her in danger. But what could he do?

There was only one thing that he could think of, one course of action that would keep Ashley safe from harm--too bad it would break both their hearts in the process.

Randy stroked Ashley's hair gently, trying to hold onto every nuance, every sensation, every second of the ecstasy they had shared. Because this was the last time he would ever see her like this. The last time that he would ever hold her in his arms and know that she was his.

The Legend Killer closed his eyes, his throat swelling shut with emotion. "Forgive me, Ash--please, forgive me," he managed to whisper.

"Forgive me for what I have to do."


	30. Chapter 30: One More Lie

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I apologize in advance, I know this chapter is a little short, but I had a busy start to the semester--and besides, this chapter is a precursor to the doozy that the next one is going to be. Hopefully, you'll enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **xDarexToxDream, xxxMusicPassionxxx, CerebralPrincess, Menaji, MissMikkiMouse, justbornawsome, Ashleymassarophan1, **and **ShannonxMoore'sxLover **for reviewing the last chapter! Love yas!**

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Chapter 30: One More Lie

The World Heavyweight Champion felt a satisfied grin slip across his face as he strolled down the hallway. Man, that Candice Michelle sure was _hot_. He could still picture her perfectly, perched on the seat next to his, one finger idly tracing the rim of her glass, tits practically spilling out of her top--and then later, once she and him had gotten a hotel room of their own...

It was too bad Candice couldn't use any of those..._skills_...she had shown him last night in her Go Daddy commercials--if she could, she'd probably quadruple their business.

The Animal was in such a good mood after last night, he hadn't even complained when Cowboy Bob had asked...no, _ordered_ him to go up and fetch his son--a request which would have earned the Hall of Famer a cold stare of refusal on any other occasion. To be honest, he was curious to find out how Orton's evening had turned out--from the way he and Ashley had been groping each other in the car, it seemed only inevitable that it had progressed to something more once they were alone.

The Diva Search winner might be a little too skater-punk-chic for Batista's liking, but Randy seemed to like her, and if nothing else, maybe one night with her would bring back the old Legend Killer--the confident, arrogant ladies-man he had known in Evolution; the Superstar who had once been the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in history.

Even since Randy had come to SmackDown--no, even before that; since Wrestlemania 21, the third-generation Superstar had been a hollow shell of his former self. The confidence was still there--when wasn't it?--but whatever personality the Legend Killer had once possessed had seemingly vanished, either stolen from him or else locked away behind that handsome impassive facade of his. He no longer cared about having fun--in fact, he no longer cared about _anything_...save defeating the Undertaker. The Animal had watched as the competitive fire in Orton's eyes gradually smoldered into obsession, wondering if he was going to be stuck with this new, embittered Randy for the rest of his career.

But then Ashley Massaro had come along--and something inside the Legend Killer had woken up. But this Randy was different from both the young upstart in Evolution and the remorseless nemesis of the Deadman. Batista couldn't quite put his finger on it; Randy rarely mentioned the Raw Diva, but whenever he did, he seemed almost..._afraid_.

Afraid of what, though? Afraid of caring about her...or admitting that he did?

The elevator doors slid open, jarring the World Heavyweight Champion from his pondering. The big man stepped out into the carpeted hallway, but had only walked a few steps when up ahead, he saw the door to Randy's hotel room swing open, and the third-generation Superstar step out alone.

Randy closed the door behind him, and for a moment or two, he stood there, resting his forehead against its wooden surface. Then, abruptly, he pulled away, turning and striding toward the elevators. His expression was emotionless, registering only mild recognition when he noticed the Animal moving toward him.

Batista grinned. "Hey, man, great timing! I just came up to get you..." His voice trailed off when the Legend Killer brushed by him without so much as a muttered greeting. The World Heavyweight Champion glanced from him to the closed door a few yards away, then back again. "Where's your better half?" he asked, albeit a little softer this time.

Randy didn't answer; merely jabbed the "DOWN" button with his thumb and clasped his hands behind his back, staring stoically up at the glowing sequence of numbers above the brass-plated doors.

A smirk gradually appeared on the sharp-hewn features of the World Heavyweight Champion, and the big man let out a low chuckle. "_Oh...I see_ how it is." Turning, he sauntered back to the elevators, stopping right next to Randy and adopting a similar posture. Without looking over at the Legend Killer, the Animal continued. "Don't want to go through that whole 'Don't call me, I'll call you' bullshit, huh? Don't blame you." Batista paused, the smirk morphing into a leer. "Tell me, though, man...between the two of us...does that Ashley chick have any..._other_...piercings? You know, _under_ her clothes--"

Without warning, Randy spun around, grabbing Batista's collar and jerking the bigger man toward him. The words faltered and died on the Animal's lips when he saw the look in Randy's eyes. The Legend Killer's irises were flat and empty, as though whatever life or warmth still existed behind them had been drained away. It was like staring into the eyes of a shark...or a corpse.

The third-generation Superstar's lips moved, spitting out two words in a voice that was just as dead as his gaze: "_Shut up_."

For once, the World Heavyweight Champion obliged.

* * *

Ashley returned to wakefulness slowly, the blackness behind her closed lids gradually lightening to a warm amber. Memories of the previous night filtered through to her consciousness, causing a small smile to touch her lips. The rookie Diva let out a soft sigh, rolling over onto her side to drape her arm over Randy.

Instead of the warm, comforting body of the Legend Killer, however, her arm encountered only empty air and the smooth texture of the sheets. Ashley opened her eyes a crack, frowning a little in confusion. "Randy?"

The other side of the bed was empty.

Fully awake now, Ashley sat up, clutching the bedcovers to her chest. "Randy?" she repeated, a little bit louder this time. "Randy, are you there?" Her voice, husky with sleep a moment ago, had taken on the faintest note of urgency.

_Don't panic_...the Diva Search winner told herself sternly. _He's probably in the bathroom..._But a quick glance in that direction showed her that the bathroom door was open, the light off. Ashley slowly tore her gaze from the darkened doorway, her blue-green irises scanning the main room. Her suitcase was still propped up against the wall, her clothes still littered the floor--but of Randy, there was no trace. No luggage, no clothing, no toiletries...it was as though he'd never been there in the first place.

Ashley slowly drew her knees up to her chest as the awful realization dawned on her: _Randy had left her_. After all of his entreaties last night, all of his pleas for her not to leave him...he had abandoned her without so much as a goodbye.

The rookie Diva felt her lower lip tremble. "It's nothing," she whispered, trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking. "He just had an early flight, that's all. He had an early flight, and he didn't want to wake me..."

But the words sounded unconvincing in her own ears, and no matter how many times she repeated them, they did nothing to assuage the small seed of dread already taking root in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

The dread only grew as the day progressed.

Monday Night Raw was in Cleveland this week, and during the three-hour drive to said city, Ashley had nothing better to do than relive last night's events over and over, racking her brain frantically for something, some clue that would explain Randy's disappearing act this morning. The Legend Killer had left her nothing, not a note, not even so much as a phone call--and every time she tried to call _him_, she only got his voice mail.

It was as though--Ashley hated to even _consider_ it, but consider it she had to--as though Randy was _deliberately_ ignoring her. As though he had gotten what he wanted from her and now had no further use for her.

_No_. That wasn't possible. What she and Randy had shared last night--it had been about more than just sex. Those things he had said--things he had been saying since the beginning--why would he even have bothered to utter them if they weren't true?

Unless...

_Dating Divas...it's just a status thing to him..._

Unless sex--

_All Randy cares about...is his career..._

--had been Randy's objective--

_He didn't even call you to tell you that it was over..._

--all along.

"No!" the Diva Search Search winner whispered harshly, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles flushed white. Her voice wavered, harkening the imminent arrival of tears. "No, it's not _like _that! I _love _him...and he loves me..."

_No, Ash..._The little voice in her head was back, gloating this time, its tone so smarmy that Ashley would have shoved the business end of a power drill into her ear rather than listen to it. _He MADE you love him..._

_ HE doesn't love ANYONE...except himself..._

By the time she arrived at the arena, the rookie Diva was on the verge of going crazy. It took a monumental effort, everything she had, in fact, to put one foot in front of the other, to keep a neutral expression on her face, to pretend as though nothing had changed when in actuality, everything had. And it certainly didn't help matters that when she entered the locker room, the first words out of Trish's mouth were: "So...how did things go with Matt last night?"

Ashley felt her chest grow tight, so tight that she couldn't even draw in a breath. She stared at the Women's Champion, unable to do anything more complex than blink, wondering if Trish was being genuine or merely handing her the shovel with which to dig herself into a hole. "Matt?" the Diva Search winner managed to croak, unsure of what tone she was going for, but hoping that it wasn't a suspicious one.

Trish started to add something else, but her words were quickly drowned out by the energetic tone of the Diva behind her. "Yeah, you know?" Mickie tossed her golden-brown hair over one shoulder, grinning at the rookie Diva. "When Matt whisked you away after the show last night--how did it go?"

For a second or two, Ashley could only stare dumbly at the brunette, wondering what she had done to make Mickie throw her under the bus like this. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, her sluggish brain finally kicked in and she realized that just the opposite was taking place. _Mickie was giving her a way out. _

The Diva Search winner swung her gaze back to Trish, barely hearing the words as they tumbled out of her mouth. "Matt? Uh...Matt's fine. We, um..." Ashley hesitated for a moment, praying that her statement didn't sound as half-assed to Trish as it did to her. "We talked. For a long time. I think..." Oh, God, she was _so_ going to Hell for this. "I think we're going to be fine."

For a moment, Ashley thought she saw the faintest hint of something in the Women's Champion's eyes--Doubt? Suspicion?--but in the next, Trish's face cleared and she smiled. "That's great!" the Canadian beauty exclaimed. "Because, you know, I was worried--"

"Thanks," the rookie Diva replied automatically, thinking dully that if she didn't get out of this room right now, she was going to throw up all over the floor. "I think I forgot something. Could you excuse me for a sec?" Without waiting to see whether or not Trish had accepted the excuse, Ashley turned around, yanking open the door and exiting the room.

As soon as she stepped out into the hall, her head cleared, but not enough. Not enough to stop the enormous ball of emotion threatening to burst out of her. If she didn't find someplace to melt down in private, the entire Raw roster was going to see a very public meltdown right here in this hallway.

Ashley heard the soft hiss of the locker room door swinging open and tensed, thinking that Trish had emerged to talk some more. Her blue-green eyes widened in shock when Mickie appeared at her side, her arm wrapped supportively around Ashley's waist. "It's okay," the brunette Diva whispered, and her alto voice was serious but comforting, with none of its customary manic glee.

Ashley almost started to cry at this point, could actually feel the tears coming, but quickly curbed this outpouring of emotion when she heard Mickie hiss: "Not here! They'll see you!" Without adding anything further, the Trish Stratus-superfan led her down the hall, taking a sharp left and ducking into a alcove, where a supply closet was located.

The closet was roomy, but freezing cold, with metal racks of cleaning supplies lining every wall. Mickie surreptitiously checked the hallway, making sure that no one had noticed their strange detour, then closed the door behind her, turning back toward Ashley. Without saying anything, she walked toward the Diva Search winner, reaching out to envelope her in a hug.

This simple gesture of kindness from the least likely of sources was enough to sever the few remaining ties of Ashley's self-control, and the rookie Diva burst into tears, clinging to Mickie as she sobbed. The brunette let her cry, rubbing her back soothingly, and when Ashley's sobs had slowed to hiccups, Mickie pulled back. Grabbing a roll of paper towels off a nearby shelf, she handed it to the Diva Search winner. "Tell me what happened."

Ashley tore off a piece of the rough brown bathroom tissue, using it to blow her nose. Slowly, in a voice that still trembled with unshed tears, she told Mickie everything. Not just the previous night, but everything that had preceded it. Summerslam. The dare. The t-shirt. The first visit to SmackDown. The note--everything she had never dared tell Trish or Maria.

When she was finished, the rookie Diva balled the sodden tissue up in her hand, staring dully at the floor. "I was so _stupid_," she murmured, more to herself than to Mickie. "I had finally convinced myself that everyone else was _wrong _about him--and instead they all turned out to be _right_." She shook her head, her golden hair falling across her face. "I was just kidding myself. He never loved me."

"Are you sure?" Mickie's solemn voice cut across her thoughts and the Diva Search winner looked up. The brunette Diva crossed her arms over her chest as she went on. "I mean, after last week...with the Undertaker..." Across from her, Ashley shivered. "What you said...you said that Randy pushed you away...to protect you. How do you know that's not what he's doing right now?"

"Because it's too late!" the rookie Diva exclaimed. Ashley finger-combed her hair back from her face, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. "'Taker knew all along what I meant to Randy." She laughed bitterly. "He knew even before _we_ did--"

"Yeah, but maybe Randy doesn't know that!" Mickie interjected, her tone forceful. Her brown eyes bore into Ashley's blue-green ones. "Maybe he still thinks...that this is the only way he can protect you."

"But why _this way_?" Ashley heard her voice take on a whining edge, and immediately hated herself for it. She could hear the logic in Mickie's words, but the layers of sorrow and self-pity surrounding her were thick, and so far, Mickie's statements had barely made a dent in their surface. "Why didn't he just tell me from the start? Why did he string me along like this, make me fall for him when half the time, I wasn't even sure that I _wanted _to?" The Diva Search winner shook her head. "Why is he _doing _this? Why is he breaking my heart?"

She hadn't really been expecting a reply from Mickie, so she was a little surprised when she got one. The brunette's voice was quiet, but nevertheless, her words stunned Ashley to the core: "Because maybe you're not the only one he's trying to convince."

Ashley stared at her, speechless. Mickie continued, her eyes sliding away from Ashley's for a second. "Look, I'm not like the rest of you, okay? I don't _know_ Randy like you do--but I know what he's done, the kind of life that he's led. If you ask me, I think..." The Trish Stratus-superfan hesitated for a moment. "I think he's been dead inside for a long time now...because it's easier. It's easier to do the things that he does when you pretend that you don't have a heart. But then something changed."

Mickie's gaze fastened on hers once more. "He met you."

The brunette paused to take a breath before going on. "When he did, something inside him...it woke up, came back to life." A rueful smile touched her lips. "But that's the problem sometimes with having a heart. You start to feel...and sooner or later, you're going to get hurt."

"Is that why he's doing this?" Ashley could hear her voice as though from a great distance, bitter and anguished. "Because _he's _afraid of getting hurt?"

Mickie shook her head. "I'm not saying that he made the right decision. I just think that--deep down--he's afraid to feel. He's terrified of losing you--but even more terrified of what'll happen to him if he does. Maybe...maybe he thinks that if he convinces himself that he doesn't love you, if he forces you out of his life and tells himself that he's doing it to protect you...then maybe losing you won't hurt so much."

At this, Ashley turned away, but the mere act of breaking eye contact wasn't enough to keep Mickie's words from penetrating her, breaking through the shield of self-pity and resonating deep within her. All this time, she'd only been concerned with how scared _she_ was--she'd never once considered that Randy might be just as terrified as she about falling in love.

_Last night, I made a promise that I would never leave him, no matter what..._The rookie Diva thought. _And I have to abide by that. No matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts, I have to fight for this. Because it's too late for me now; I'm involved. I'm so in love with him that I can't see straight. I'm a part of his life now whether he wants me to be or not. _

She heard Mickie speak up behind her. "I know that you don't trust me, that you think I'm a psycho--but I'm not stupid. Everyone wants you to be with Matt--but no one's ever stopped to ask you what _you_ want. So I'm asking you now, Ash: what do _you_ want? _Who_ do you want?"

Ashley closed her eyes, feeling tears work their way from beneath her lids. "I want Randy," the rookie Diva whispered, and just the act of doing so, of admitting her feelings for another man, she felt an enormous weight lift off of her.

She heard Mickie come up behind her, felt the other Diva slip her arm around her shoulders consolingly. "It's _your_ life, Ash. Not Trish's, not Matt's, but _yours_. _You're_ the one who has to live it." The brunette paused for a second, before adding: "So choose the one you love."

* * *

Both of Ashley's legs had gone numb; she could barely feel her feet as they connected with the concrete. She had never once been to SmackDown without feeling some measure of trepidation, but this time, the Diva Search winner truly felt as though she was walking into the lions' den.

_You're making a mistake_...the little voice inside her whispered coldly. _He made it clear to you yesterday--he doesn't give a DAMN about you..._

The rookie Diva shook her head. "No, you're wrong," she whispered. "You don't know him--"

_And you DO?_...the voice shot back. Now it was starting to sound quite a bit like Candice, a fact which pissed Ashley off more than anything else. _You think just because you slept with him that you somehow know him? Honey, if THAT were the case, then EVERY Diva on the roster would--_

"Shut up!" Ashley muttered fiercely to herself before the voice could finish. "Shut up, shut up, _shut up_!" Her last murmured epithet must have come out a little louder than she'd intended because a few feet away, Paul London and Brian Kendrick broke off their conversation and gave her a strange look. The Diva Search winner blushed and quickly hurried past them.

She had to find Randy, because the longer she remained out here, the greater her chances were of running into Matt. And that was one confrontation Ashley knew she did not possess the strength to stomach. She still didn't know what she was going to do about the elder Hardy brother--despite his flaws, he didn't deserve _this_--but with all the other thoughts and emotions swirling around her head right now, she couldn't afford to waste time thinking about Matt.

A hand came down on her shoulder, and Ashley almost died; she actually had to bite her lips to prevent herself from screaming. Steeling herself, she turned around--and came face-to-face with the mournful countenance of Cowboy Bob Orton.

The rookie Diva opened her mouth to explain, but then stopped. She could tell just by looking at him that the Hall of Famer knew her reasons for being here as well as she did. Instead, Ashley licked her lips and bluntly asked: "Where's Randy?"

A ghost of a smile touched Cowboy Bob's mouth. "Come with me." Taking her courteously by the arm, the elder Orton led her down the hallway, deftly steering her away from the main areas of traffic, talking the whole time: "I got suspicious when my son came down yesterday without you. I figured the rest of it out for myself when I asked him where you were and he told me it was none of my goddamn business." The Hall of Famer shook his head. "I've never see him this way before. Something's happening to him--it's like he's shutting down from the inside--"

"Why are you helping me?" Ashley's voice was quiet, resigned, but enough to make Cowboy Bob grind to a halt. The Diva Search winner shook her head. "I mean...with everything's Randy's going through...aren't I just a distraction?"

A technician hurried down the hall, arms full of coils of wire, and Cowboy Bob quickly pulled Ashley out of the way. The Hall of Famer stared at her for a second or two, his expression serious. "I think you're the only thing that's keeping my boy's feet on the ground right now--and if he's not grounded, then the Undertaker's going to drag him straight to hell."

Before Ashley could ask what he meant by this, the elder Orton announced: "Here we are." The Diva Search winner looked over. The two of them had stopped outside one of the arena's countless dressing rooms. Raising his hand, Cowboy Boy rapped sharply on the door with his knuckles.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then Ashley felt her heart leap into her throat when she heard Randy's deep voice exclaim with more than a touch of irritation: "What _now_, Dad?"

"Visitor for you," the Hall of Famer replied, and before Ashley knew what was happening, Cowboy Boy opened the door and shoved her inside.

The rookie Diva barely heard the door click shut behind her; she was too focused on the tall lean figure facing the mirror. Randy's head was bowed; the turquoise tribal tattoos on his back spreading outward like a pair of wings. With an impatient sigh, the Legend Killer whirled around. "What is it--" His voice trailed off into nothing when he saw the diminutive blond Diva standing only a few feet away.

For several long seconds, there was only silence. Then, gradually, Randy drew his arms up, crossing them over his chest, staring at Ashley with an impassiveness that bordered on contempt. "What do _you_ want?" the third-generation Superstar demanded, his deep voice clipped and cold.

Ashley swallowed hard; her mouth had gone completely dry. But she couldn't back down now. Because when Randy had turned around, she had seen a faint flicker of _something_ in his azure eyes--uncertainty, longing, fear--something out of place with the emotionless exterior he was showing her right now. For the briefest moment, Randy's facade had slipped, revealing a glimpse of the soul hiding beneath--and that, more than anything else...gave her hope.

The Diva Search winner tilted her chin up, meeting Randy's gaze with equal fearlessness.

"We need to talk."


	31. Chapter 31: Afraid To Feel

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! You have to admit, this is a pretty decent amount of time for me. I have to say, though, this chapter HURT to write. It was an emotional drainer, and right now, I'm just glad that it's over. But as always, I hope that you all will enjoy it. Peace!**

**Thank you to **iluvmycena, xDarexToxDreamx, rory21, **and **Ashleymassarophan1 **for reviewing the last chapter! Love yas!

* * *

**

Chapter 31: Afraid To Feel

"I don't understand!" Candice whined. The brunette wobbled precariously on her spike-heeled shoes as she struggled to keep up with her friend's rapid pace. "Why did we have to come to SmackDown?"

"Because, Candy," Torrie replied patiently, confident in the knowledge that the other Diva couldn't see her rolling her eyes. "After what we saw on Sunday night, you and I have an _obligation_ to tell Matt Hardy what his girlfriend's been up to."

"But why come all the way _here_?" Candice complained. The Go Daddy spokesmodel hugged herself, eying her surroundings with disgust, as though the hallways of the US Bank Arena had somehow been transformed into a dingy back alley. "What's wrong with a simple phone call?"

Torrie let out an impatient sigh, shooting her friend a Look over her shoulder. "_Right_...because you and I both have Matt on speed dial." The Boise Belle looked straight ahead again, allowing herself a second eye roll. "Besides--after all of the stuff that we've put Punky Brewster through, Matt isn't exactly..._trusting_...toward us." Torrie pushed back a curl of bright blond hair, tucking it behind her ear as she continued. "The only way he's even going to remotely listen to us is if we show up in person."

The brunette scowled, hugging herself even tighter. "I still don't see why we have to be here," she muttered, her tone still petulant. A moment of precious silence passed before Candice spoke up once more, her voice even louder and shriller. "I mean, it was _bad enough_ that I had to sleep with _Dave Batista_--"

"Oh, shut up. You know that you enjoyed it." Torrie interrupted, her tone distracted.

Candice went on as though she hadn't even heard her. "--what if I run into him again? What am I gonna say to him?" The Go Daddy spokesmodel shuddered. "That guy is _so sleazy_--"

Candice's whining abruptly ended in a surprised squeal as Torrie whirled around, grabbing her friend by the shoulders and shaking her hard. "_Look_," the Boise Belle spat. Her sunny demeanor had evaporated, leaving only malice and cruelty etched across her beautiful features. "Do you remember what it was like back in the beginning? When it was just us and Ashley Massaro, without Trish Stratus or Mickie James or even that little retard Maria to mess things up?"

Candice was so stunned by her friend's sudden change in attitude that she couldn't speak; merely nodded. Torrie went on. "Remember how much _fun_ that was?" Another nod from the brunette. "Well, then, if we do this...then things can go back to the way they used to be."

A cold smile touched the corners of Torrie's mouth. "No one ever forgave Lita for what she did...and no one will forgive Ashley, either. And tell me, Candy, which would you rather see? That little skater chick stealing our spotlight with her new best friends...or the same way we found her--_alone_?"

For a moment, there was no response from Candice, and Torrie wondered if she would have to distill her little monologue into simpler language that the brunette would understand. But then the Go Daddy spokesmodel's full lips curved upward in a nasty sneer, and she simply remarked: "Let's do this, then."

Torrie returned her friend's smirk, and the evil duo continued their trek down the crowded hallway, a newfound confidence infusing their movements. They reached the men's locker room, both of them taking up a position on either side of the door frame. Torrie reached up, daintily rapping on the door with one slim, manicured hand.

Muffled voices emanated from within the room, and eventually, the door opened a crack. Shannon Moore cautiously poked his head out to investigate. His face immediately lit up when he saw the two Divas. "Hey, ladies!" The smile of SmackDown's Resident Reject faded a touch, however, as he recognized Candice. "...and Candice..." he added _sotto voce_.

The brunette shot him a fierce glare, but Torrie quickly began talking, filling the silence before Candice could open her mouth to retort. "Hey, Shannon!" the Boise Belle replied brightly. She glanced briefly over Shannon's shoulder, before swinging her focus back to him. "We're actually looking for Matt--is he here?"

The Resident Reject looked from one Diva to the other. His smile was still in place, but there was a wariness in his gaze that hadn't been there a second ago. "Sure thing," the North Carolina native answered. Looking back over his shoulder, he yelled out: "Matt! Girls here for you!" Shannon sidled away from the door, but not before adding under his breath. "..._one_ of them's a girl, anyway..."

At this, Candice's perfect features warped with fury, and she lunged toward the departing Reject. Just as swiftly, however, Torrie shot her hand out, grabbing hold of the brunette's arm, and sinking her nails into her skin. "Not now, Candy!" the Boise Belle hissed.

Candice yelped, and grabbed her arm in pain, but nevertheless moved back a pace. In the next instant, though, both Divas shoved their mutual irritation aside, plastering large phony smiles on their faces as Matt appeared at the door.

The elder Hardy brother looked from one to the other, his neutral expression closing down into a distrustful scowl. "What do _you two _want?" he asked coldly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Torrie glanced down at the floor for a second, and when she looked back up, her blue eyes were full of apologetic contrite.

"We have to talk to you." A pause. "It's about Ashley..."

* * *

Randy shook his head. "We have nothing to talk about." He broke off eye contact, turning his back on Ashley and facing the mirror once again.

Just the tone of his voice alone made the rookie Diva feel as though she had been slapped, but she pressed on, her voice as coldly resolute as his. "_Yes, we do_. You _know_ we do."

The Legend Killer didn't turn around. Taking a deep breath, Ashley took a step toward him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she whispered. Then, in a slightly louder voice, one that quavered with anger and barely contained emotion: "I don't know who the _hell _you think you are, but you can't _treat_ me like this!" Another step. "You can't just say the things that you said, _sleep_ with me--and then act like nothing happened!"

"And what _did_ happen?" the third-generation Superstar shot back. There was no warmth in his voice, only an icy arrogance. "Huh? Because as far as I'm concerned, the only thing that happened between us two nights ago was great sex." Randy shrugged, and Ashley could hear the smirk in his tone. "Well...not _that_ great, if you want my honest opinion."

The insult slammed into Ashley, piercing her heart with the same devastating force as a bullet. She felt like all the air had been snatched out of her lungs, and for a second or two, she couldn't breathe. But the Diva Search winner hung on, biting her lip to hold back her tears. She had come this far; she was going to see this thing through to the end...even if it tore her apart in the process.

Instead, Ashley shook her head. "It was more than that," the rookie Diva murmured. "It was more than that--and you _know _it." She moved closer to the Legend Killer, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm, her fingertips grazing the turquoise tribal tattoo.

"What's happening to you?" she whispered, her voice almost pleading. There was no response from Randy; not that she'd really been expecting an answer to her question. The Diva Search winner pressed on, inching even nearer. "Two nights ago, you were _begging _me not to leave--"

"Two nights ago," Randy interrupted brusquely, turning back around to face her. "I would have said anything that I had to to get you into bed." A hint of a sneer touched his mouth. "And clearly, it worked--because here we are right now."

Once again, the slur rocked Ashley, almost knocking her over. The rookie Diva looked up, forcing herself to meet Randy's eyes. "Bullshit." Ashley retorted. "You were almost out of your mind; raving on and on about the Undertaker--"

At the mention of the Deadman's name, Randy's expression stiffened. But the momentary tenseness soon passed, arrogance taking its place. "I had a rough night, that's all," the Legend Killer answered, just a few seconds too slow to be the truth. "Now--I'm focused. I'm _ready_. Once I step in that ring tonight, I'm challenging Dave for his title--and _no one's_ going to stop me from becoming the next World Champion." The sneer was back, barely visible, but present nonetheless. "And right now...there's no room in my life for any..._distractions_."

This time, Ashley couldn't steel herself enough to stop the tears from flowing, and one by one, they spilled down her cheeks. "Is that all I am to you?" the Diva Search winner whispered, her voice cracking with barely contained feeling. "A _distraction_?" Before she could stop herself, she raised her arms, her fists clenched, slamming her closed hands against Randy's bare chest. "How can you _say_ that, after everything you _said_--"

The third-generation Superstar grabbed her wrists, holding her at arms length away from him. Ashley struggled to free herself, but to no avail; it was like struggling against the clutches of a robot. Apropos metaphor, since the man facing her wasn't human; couldn't possibly _be_ human. No human being could be this cruel. "All the things I _said_," the Legend Killer hissed. "I've been saying to women I met _long before _I _ever _met you."

He noted the expression on the rookie Diva's face, and laughed, a harsh mocking sound. "Poor little Ashley..." he remarked, releasing his grip on her wrists, reaching up to caress her face, laughing bitterly yet again when the Diva Search winner flinched away from his touch. "Did you actually think that you were something special?" Grabbing her, he pulled Ashley in front of him, holding her face in both of his hands, forcing her to gaze at their shared reflection.

"Look at us," Randy commanded, and the rookie Diva reluctantly did so. "I'm a third-generation Superstar. I was the _youngest _World Champion in _history_. I'm the _Legend Killer_--and once I _destroy_ the Undertaker, I'll be a _legend_. You--" He directed his gaze at the diminutive Diva before him. "--you're just a little girl who won a contest. You're just another useless Diva, a _waste of space_." The Legend Killer bent down, until his mouth was next to Ashley's ear. "I'm the future of this business--why would _I_ settle for someone who looks like _you_?"

His words hurt; they hurt worse than any bump she had ever taken in the ring. But the Diva Search winner refused to submit; refused to break down entirely. Because lurking in the depths of Randy's dead azure irises, she could glimpse a faint trace of uncertainty. Uncertainty...and pain.

_This is hurting him..._Ashley thought to herself. _This is hurting him just as much as it's hurting me...maybe even more so...because he has to pretend that he doesn't care..._

It was this newfound insight, more than anything else, that forced her to lift her chin, to look into Randy's eyes as she flatly replied. "Because you love me."

At this, the Legend Killer flinched, _visibly_ flinched. Slowly, he released his hold on her, letting his arms fall back down to his sides. "Then you're obviously mistaken," the third-generation Superstar answered, and it seemed to Ashley as though it was taking an extraordinary effort for him to speak. "Because I _don't_ love you." Turning his back on her, he stalked toward the door.

For a moment, Ashley stood there, shaking, unable to process this unexpected rejection, unable to believe that after everything she had endured, _this _was the way it was destined to end. The Diva Search winner spun around slowly, her whole body trembling as she struggled to keep a rein on what remained of her self-control. "You're lying," the rookie Diva murmured. Her voice gradually rose to a shout. "I don't believe you. _I don't believe you_--"

With the same ruthless speed that he exhibited in the ring, Randy came at her. Ashley's screams were cut off as he grabbed her by the throat, shoving her up onto the counter, throwing her against the mirror. The back of Ashley's skull connected painfully with the silvered glass, hard enough to fill her vision with bright spots of color.

"Do you believe _this_?" Randy's voice was in her ear, the sound of it like the insidious hiss of a snake. He spat his words out through clenched teeth. "Huh? Is _this _what I have to do to convince you?" The Legend Killer leaned closer, until his mouth grazed her ear. "The last girlfriend I had, I RKO'd her in the middle of the Raw ring--what makes you think that I'm not _capable_ of doing the same thing to you?" His hand tightened briefly around her throat, and for the very first time, Ashley was afraid. "You are _nothing_ to me." the third-generation Superstar intoned coldly. "Do you understand? _Nothing_."

Abruptly, he released her, and Ashley slowly slid to the floor, coughing and massaging her neck. Her vision finally cleared, and she looked up to see Randy heading for the door. Just the sight of him departing, the idea that he could disregard her just like everyone else, filled the Diva Search winner with a burning rage that sent adrenaline rocketing through her body.

"You..._bastard_!" Ashley spat in a low voice. The Legend Killer halted, but didn't turn to look at her. "Do you have _any idea_ what it's like for me? The lies I've told, the people I've hurt--all because you wouldn't let me go?" The rookie Diva smiled, but there was no joy in it. "I could have been happy with Matt. I _wanted_ to be--but you just kept pushing and pushing, telling me that you couldn't stay away, that you couldn't give me up. And now...now that I'm finally here, ready to give in, ready to throw everything away because I'm so in love with you--you're telling me that it's _over_?" Ashley shook her head. "It doesn't work like that."

"Get used to it, Ash," Randy's voice was cold, emotionless--but laden with that same uncertainty she had seen in his eyes. "This is the way the world works."

"This isn't you," the Diva Search winner retorted. She sat there, legs splayed out on either side of her, hands lying limply in her lap, her words the only strength she still possessed. "I _know_ you, Randy--whether you want me to or not--and this isn't you."

This time, the Legend Killer did turn around, his lip curling into a full-blown sneer. "No, Ash," the third-generation Superstar shot back. "This _is_ me. This so-called 'nice guy', this man you fell in love with--he never existed. This--" He gestured at his face. "--_this_ is who I _really_ am."

"I--" Ashley started to speak, then stopped. ..._I hate you_...had been the phrase perched on her lips, ready to be vocalized--but something inside prevented her from doing so. She couldn't quite identify what had stopped her; maybe it was Randy's voice, echoing in her ears--

_There are...things...in my life...that I can't tell anybody...not even you..._

_ But I am_ _trying, Ash...I'm trying to make you understand..._

--or maybe it was Mickie's--

_He's terrified of losing you...but even more terrified of what'll happen to him if he does..._

_ Maybe he still thinks...that this is the only way he can protect you..._

Awareness slammed into Ashley, so hard that it almost knocked her over, as she realized that this hatred..._was exactly what Randy wanted her to feel. _

More than that...what he _needed_ her to feel.

The rookie Diva looked up, staring at Randy with an intensity that was resolute, but not angry.

"I know what you're trying to do."

* * *

"I don't believe you."

Matt looked from one Diva to the other, disbelief etched across his face. Both Torrie and Candice met his gaze unflinchingly, struggling to keep the triumph out of their expressions--with Torrie doing a much better job of it..

"Believe it, Matt," the Boise Belle replied, her tone sympathetic. "Candy and I--we _both_ saw them together...and Candy got the rest of the details from a _very_ reliable source."

"Oh, yeah," the elder Hardy brother retorted sarcastically. "Because we _all_ know that Dave Batista is a reliable source of information." But even as he said it, his voice sounded unsure. Despite his unwavering distrust, there was doubt in him now. Puzzle pieces were coming together in his mind, images clarifying and taking shape. He was starting to see the final picture now...and it was clear that he didn't like what he saw.

"Don't feel too bad, Matt," Candice chimed in. She sauntered closer to Matt, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault." She paused for a second. "Okay...maybe it _is_ your fault a little bit. After all," The brunette smirked. "After what happened last time, you should have known better than to fall for a chick who was just like Lita--"

Without warning, Matt grabbed Candice's wrist, twisting it sharply until the Diva cried out in pain. The elder Hardy brother regarded her without pity. "First of all," he ordered, his voice emotionless. "Don't you ever, _ever_, mention Amy again. Second--" Matt swung his glare in Torrie's direction, causing the Boise Belle to back up a step. "Why should I believe a single thing that either one of you says? You two have been tormenting Ash since Day One--how did I know this isn't just a repeat of that love note B.S. you pulled a couple months back?"

"Really?" Candice shot back, revealing for an instant the fangs hiding beneath her beautiful exterior. "Is _that_ what _she _told you?"

Matt didn't respond; merely released the brunette, flinging her hand from him and wiping his hand on his pants, as though touching her could somehow infect him. "Whatever," the elder Hardy brother remarked. "I'm over this." He turned to leave--but froze as Torrie's brightly mocking voice pervaded his ears.

"Why don't you just ask Ashley herself?"

Matt looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes meeting Torrie's blue ones. "Maybe I will," the elder Hardy brother drawled, wondering where she was going with this.

The Boise Belle nodded over her shoulder. "She's here, in this arena." Extending one slender hand in front of her, she examined her nails as she went on, her tone chillingly casual. "She showed up just before we did--I thought she was here to see you." Her azure irises swung up to meet Matt's again. "But then I saw her walk off with Randy Orton's daddy--one guess where _he_ took her." Seeing Matt's stunned expression, the Boise Belle adopted a show of innocence. "What? Don't believe me? Ask anyone you like--_trust me_, we weren't the only ones who saw her." Torrie ran her thumb over the rounded ends of her fingernails. "You'd better hurry, though--they're probably tearing each other's clothes off as we speak."

The elder Hardy brother's paralysis broke, and he staggered backward, eying the two Divas with something akin to hatred. Torrie knew that right now, he was as equally dangerous as he had been a second ago, if not more so. He understood the truth now, even if he didn't want to accept it--and from the look in his eyes, he would have killed them both where they stood if it would have erased that knowledge from his mind.

Instead, Matt wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He seemed to be having trouble steadying himself; he was swaying back and forth. He pointed at them, indicating both and neither one at the same time. "If I find out you've been lying to me--" He broke off, but there was no need to conclude the thought; the implied threat hung in the air between them. The elder Hardy brother turned on his heel, hurrying down the hall, his rapid walk quickly turning into a jog...then a run.

Torrie waited until he was out of sight before turning back to her cohort in crime. "Come on, Candy," the Boise Belle remarked. "Let's go."

Candice blinked in surprise. "What?" She gestured frantically at the hallway Matt Hardy had just disappeared down. "We go to all that trouble--and we don't even get to stay and enjoy the show?"

Torrie made a tsking sound, reaching out to loop her arm through Candice's. "Candy, Candy, Candy..." The Boise Belle led her friend down the corridor as she continued. "First rule of being an agent of chaos--never be present when the shit hits the fan."

Torrie hesitated a second, looking back over her shoulder, her countenance momentarily turning fearful. "And if he can't find her--who do you think he's going to come looking for instead?"

* * *

Randy froze for a second, regarding the Diva Search winner, his expression still impassive. "And what am I doing?"

The mocking in his voice, so devastating a second ago, now merely bounced off of Ashley's skin, not permeating any deeper than the surface. "This is about the Undertaker," the rookie Diva replied, and for a second, she felt the icy fingers of the Deadman close over her heart. But Ashley shook it off and continued. "You're trying to protect me from him. You think that if you push me away...if you make me think that you _hate_ me..then he won't use me to get to you."

Randy laughed again, but it sounded forced, unconvinced. "You are out of your--" the Legend Killer began, but Ashley cut him off, talking over him, her voice growing louder and louder. "--but what you don't even know is that it's _too late_!"

As soon as she uttered those last two words, Randy fell silent, and Ashley felt the power shift into her possession. She stared up at the third-generation Superstar, feeling no pleasure as she added: "He already has."

Randy was already shaking his head, backing away from her until his back connected with the door. "That's not possible," the Legend Killer replied, more to himself than to her. His blue eyes fastened on Ashley's. "You're _lying_."

Ashley met his gaze calmly, feeling no anger, feeling nothing except pity. "No...I'm not."

"Why would..." The Legend Killer struggled to find his words, trying to regain control of the conversation. But it was too late; the mask, the emotionless facade covering his true feelings, had slipped--and try as he might, he just couldn't quite fix it back in place. Randy settled for glaring at her, but just like everything else, it was empty; a response springing not from anger...but from desperation. "Why would the _Undertaker_ bother with someone like _you_?"

"Because I mean something to you," the Diva Search winner replied, and for a moment, it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. "I _matter_ to you. You feel _something_ when you look at me--but you won't admit it. You'd rather go back to being dead inside than admit that you love me."

Ashley paused for a moment, sorrow creeping into her voice. "I don't understand you. I don't understand how you can choose this...this _emptiness_. You walk around and pretend to be numb and act like everything's fine--but you're _not_ fine, Randy! You're fucked-up...and so am I. We both are." She gestured at the two of them. "You're fucked-up because you're afraid to feel...and I'm fucked-up because, in spite of it, I still love you."

At this, the Legend Killer turned around, facing the door, one hand pressed to its wooden surface. His response didn't faze Ashley; she knew that he wasn't rejecting her--he just couldn't bear to look at her any more. The rookie Diva glanced from him to the closed door, and then back again. "If I walk out that door, I'll have nothing. No boyfriend, no reputation--probably even no friends. I'll be just like you." She hesitated for a moment before adding a deliberate emphasis on her next word: "_Alone_."

With difficulty, the Diva Search winner reached up behind her, grabbing onto the edge of the counter and using it for support as she rose slowly to her feet. "And when the Deadman comes after me, I hope you always remember that the last thing you ever told me was that _I meant nothing_ _to you_."

A long silence followed her words. For a moment, Ashley wondered if Randy had even heard her, but in the next instant, she saw his shoulders slump, saw his whole body start to shake. The Legend Killer clenched his hand into a fist, punching the door. But there was no force behind his swing, and his knuckles merely rapped harmlessly against its surface. He did this a second time. A third.

And finally, Ashley heard his voice, barely audible, so alien and yet so familiar; his words choked, as though he was yanking them up from somewhere deep inside himself: "If..._anything_...ever happened to you...I'd never forgive myself."

He fell to one knee, grabbing out at the wall to steady himself. He looked back over his shoulder, and the expression on his face was so tormented that it dissolved all the remaining anger still caked around Ashley's heart.

Randy's lips moved; he wasn't finished speaking. "I couldn't..._live_...with myself--any more than I can live without you."

With that, Randy's tenuous balance gave way and he fell to the ground, spinning around and slumping ungracefully against the wall in a sitting position. Ashley didn't hesitate; she dashed across the room, kneeling down beside Randy, and throwing her arms around his neck.

For a moment, the Legend Killer sat limply in her embrace, before he finally stirred, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her against him.

Ashley pressed her lips to the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin. Tears streamed down her face. "I want to love you, Randy," the Diva Search winner whispered. "But I can't do it alone."

At this, Randy drew back. With hands that were trembling, he reached up, cupping her face between his palms. "You're not alone, Ash," the Legend Killer murmured, leaning in to kiss her lips.

The kiss was gentle, but only at first; it soon intensified, the pair shifting positions to nestle their bodies more closely against one another's. Ashley was so consumed with kissing Randy, she never heard the commotion outside the door, never heard Cowboy Bob exclaim indignantly: "What the hell are you--"

She only heard the sound of the door flying open, the crash as it connected with the adjoining wall, followed by a familiar voice saying her name:

"_Ash_?"

Ashley felt her heart stop dead inside her chest. Slowly, reluctantly, she looked up--right into the anguished eyes of Matt Hardy.


	32. Chapter 32: Falling Apart

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Sorry about the delay, I had stuff to do, and then I had a nasty-ass cold, and well, here we are. This is one of those chapter where...well, I really hope you like it, because I had doubts all the way through while writing it. It says what I want it to say, but it's always very important to me that YOU enjoy it, and so...I hope that I managed to do good. If not, well...everyone has off-days. Anyway, enjoy! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **iluvmycena, xDarexToxDreamx, MissMikkiMouse, justbornawsome, beautifultragedyxxx, **and **rory21 **for reviewing the last chapter! Love yas!

* * *

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Chapter 32: Falling Apart

The elder Hardy brother took a step toward her hesitantly, as though the tableau before him was nothing more than a bad dream. His voice was soft, distracted, it was as though he was talking to himself rather than her. "When they told me...that you were here...I didn't believe them...but I had to find out for myself." Matt swallowed hard before continuing. "And the whole way here...I kept telling myself that it was nothing...that they were just trying to fuck with me. But then...I kicked the door open...and I saw you--"

The SmackDown Superstar paused again; it looked like he was trying to force the words out. "--I saw _you_...with _him_--" Matt's voice cracked, and he fell silent. He averted his gaze, blinking rapidly--but not before Ashley caught the bright gleam of tears in his dark eyes.

The rookie Diva couldn't speak; she could barely even breathe. Her chest was compressing, squeezing all of the air out of her lungs, and the rest of her body seemed to have gone numb. Slowly, with considerable effort, she disentangled herself from Randy's arms, rising to her feet and stepping closer to the elder Hardy brother. Ashley licked her lips, trying to dredge up moisture from a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. "Matt--"

Her boyfriend didn't seem to hear her; he was still looking away, his countenance full of stunned misery, his gaze somehow..._detached_. "It's true, isn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question. A ghost of a smile, sad and resigned, flickered around the corners of Matt's mouth. "About you and him. All these months...all those times you told me there was nothing going on...all those times I tried to tell myself I was just being paranoid...and it turns out I was right the whole time." Again, that faint echo of a smile, the sight of it unnerving and heartbreaking at the same time.

Ashley felt fresh tears sting her eyes, and gulping back a sob, she tentatively reached up, her fingers grazing her boyfriend's cheek. "Matt...please--" she began.

Faster than she could see, Matt's hand shot up, grabbing onto hers and yanking it away from his face. His eyes fastened onto hers again, the misery in their dark depths already giving way to anger. "_You lied to me_." the elder Hardy brother spat through clenched teeth.

Ashley felt fear clamp down on her insides, and she tried to tug her hand free, but Matt merely tightened his grip, clutching it so tightly she could almost feel the bones grinding together beneath her skin. "I trusted you," the SmackDown Superstar continued, his voice full of tightly controlled fury. "I _loved _you--I gave you everything I had. But you _lied_ to me--_lied_ to my _face_!" He abruptly flung her hand away, as though he could no longer bear to touch her.

The Diva Search winner backed away a pace, holding her throbbing hand to her chest with the other. Tears rolled down her face, plopping one by one on the cement floor. "I'm sorry--" Ashley whispered.

"You're _sorry_?" Matt repeated, his tone full of sarcastic incredulity. "Is _that_ all you can say--that you're _sorry_? I find you practically dry-humping Randy Orton--and you're _sorry_?" His expression twisted a little, and Ashley could almost hear the faint PING of something inside him snapping. The elder Hardy brother ran a hand through his dark curly hair, tearing strands of it loose from his ponytail. "I had to find out the truth from Torrie and Candice! Fucking _Torrie and Candice_! Do you have _any_ idea how _humiliating_ that is? To find out that your girlfriend's lying to your face--from her _worse enemies_?"

The rookie Diva was openly crying by now, her whole body shaking with the effort. "Please," Ashley sobbed. "Let me explain--"

But Matt was already shaking his head, negating her statement. "No more excuses!" the elder Hardy brother shot back. "No more _lies_!" With that same terrifying speed, he came toward her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently. His fingers dug into her skin. "Just tell me the truth!" Matt screamed. "How could you do this to me? Answer me! _Answer me_!"

Ashley couldn't speak; the jarring movements were scrambling her brains. Besides, one look in the elder Hardy brother's eyes was enough to confirm her worst fears: that the darkness inside Matt, the darkness he had once aimed at Lita...was now focused solely on her.

The SmackDown Superstar's eyes narrowed, and he shook her even harder. "Answer me, you _whore_--"

Ashley had completely forgotten about Randy at this point; she wasn't even aware that the Legend Killer had gotten to his feet until she saw the blur of motion at the edges of her vision. With a low roar, Randy grabbed Matt by the throat, shoving him back against the wall and tearing loose his grip on Ashley.

The Diva Search winner stumbled back a step or two, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes widened as she saw the Legend Killer, one hand clamped around Matt's neck, practically lifting the elder Hardy brother off the ground. His handsome face was a portrait of barely contained fury, his blue eyes like azure laser beams. "If you _ever_ talk to her like that again," the third-generation Superstar declared through gritted teeth. "_I'll kill you_."

For a moment, Matt's expression went slack with shock at this sudden show of protectiveness from the Legend Killer. But in the next, however, his countenance once more turned black with rage and he knocked Randy's hand away, shoving him back. "_Fuck you--" _the elder Hardy brother snarled. Clenching his hand into a fist, he swung his arm up, his knuckles clipping Randy right in the jaw, knocking the third-generation Superstar to the ground.

Ashley screamed, but Matt paid her no mind; he was too busy kneeling down over Randy, laying into the Legend Killer with closed fist after closed. For a second or two, the rookie Diva remained where she was, frozen in the paralysis of utter disbelief. All at once, though, that paralysis gave way, and she ran over, grabbing onto her boyfriend, trying to pull him off Randy.

The Legend Killer's eyes were dazed and half-closed, blood already trickling from one nostril. But Matt kept pounding away, his lips pulled back from his teeth, muttering epithets that only he could hear. Ashley dug her heels in, utilizing all of her strength in an attempt to separate the two men. "Stop it, Matt!" she cried. "Please, stop!"

The elder Hardy brother jerked his arm sharply, intending to shake her off--and as he did so, his elbow connected painfully with her eye socket. Ashley staggered backward, hitting the wall and sliding down to sprawl on the floor. The pain was excruciating, and all she could see at first was bright spots of color.

Through the haze of agony, she heard Randy's growl: "_Bastard_!", followed by more sounds of a scuffle. Ashley's vision gradually cleared, and she gasped as the picture before her came into view.

Randy had gained the upper hand, and was now the one kneeling over Matt, both of his hands wrapped around the other Superstar's throat. Matt was gagging, his face turning pink, then red. Ashley slowly slid her gaze up to Randy's face. The Legend Killer's expression was fixed in a look of determined rage, and there was a wild light in his blue eyes. He was panting, breath tearing in and out of his body in furious gasps.

The look on his face...the Diva Search winner had seen that countenance once before: Randy had worn it right before he had locked the Undertaker in a casket and set it on fire. As she watched, Matt's struggles became weaker, his face turning purple, his eyes bulging in their sockets. The Legend Killer's response was to tighten his grip, his knuckles flushing white.

"_No_!" Randy turned in surprise at Ashley's shriek, puzzlement creeping into his expression, as though he had forgotten her presence. The rookie Diva slowly moved toward him on her knees, holding out her hands beseechingly. "Don't do it," she begged.

Randy looked from her to Matt and then back again, the blind wrath in his face gradually giving way to bewilderment. His hands hadn't loosened their grip, however, and it was this death grip that Ashley glanced at for a second or two before looking imploringly back at the third-generation Superstar. "Don't hurt him," she whispered, and as she saw the Legend Killer hesitate, added: "_Please_."

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, all of a sudden, Randy let go, his hands falling back down to his sides. Immediately, Matt began coughing, drawing precious oxygen back into his body, the color of his face slowly returning to normal. The Legend Killer didn't seem to notice; all of his focus was on the rookie Diva.

Figures burst into the room--Cowboy Bob and several road agents--grabbing the two Superstars and pulling them apart, yanking both men up to their feet. Matt struggled in their grasp, albeit weakly; Randy didn't struggle at all. His eyes were still on Ashley.

Another individual strode into the room, and the Diva Search winner quickly recognized the new arrival as the SmackDown General Manager. Theodore Long fixed both Superstars with a steely glare. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded. Stony silence greeted his query. The GM's frown deepened. "Someone want to explain what's happening?"

Matt stared at the floor, his fury draining away, leaving guilt and remorse in its place. Long looked from him to Randy, and noting that the Legend's Killer's eyes were not on him, followed the line of his gaze to the Diva Search winner huddled on the floor. His eyes widened a little at the sight of her eye, already puffy and starting to turn purple.

Long's head snapped back toward the two Superstars, his countenance becoming even more furious. "So that's how it is, huh?" he remarked, more to himself than to them. "You both oughta be ashamed of yourselves." Neither man answered, or so much as looked in his direction. "I"m not going to tolerate this. Just for that--I'm putting you two in a match tonight. Whatever you got against one another, you can settle out in the ring like civilized people."

The GM's declaration earned a tiny nod from Matt; there was no response from the Legend Killer. Long glanced down at the rookie Diva. "And as for _you_..." he went on. Ashley slowly lifted her gaze, meeting the SmackDown General Manager's stare with trepidation. Long's face softened slightly. "Stop by the trainer and have him give you something to put on your face." Ashley let out a low sigh of relief, grateful that he hadn't thrown her out of the building--something which, as the GM, was entirely within his power.

The General Manager turned back toward Matt and Randy, whatever sympathy remaining in his expression evaporating. "Now," Long announced, clasping his hands behind his back. "I suggest you both get your asses to gorilla, because _your match_...is up next."

* * *

Randy pressed his forearm against Matt's windpipe, tightening the rear naked choke just a little bit more. The elder Hardy brother gagged, his arms flailing about as he struggled to break the hold. Down in front of them, referee Jimmy Korderas asked Matt repeatedly if he wanted to give up, ready to signal for the bell should he choose to do so. But Matt wouldn't submit; Randy already knew this. The SmackDown Superstar had spent the majority of 2005 going through hell, and thus would rather pass out than voluntarily surrender. Randy didn't blame him--he wouldn't have submitted, either, given the circumstances. In fact, he didn't blame the elder Hardy brother for anything at all.

Except for what he had done to Ashley.

Matt struggled to his feet, pulling the Legend Killer up with him. Clasping his hands together, he nailed Randy in the side with some hard elbows, forcing the third-generation Superstar to release the hold. Matt wasn't finished, however; as Randy straightened up, the elder Hardy brother punched him hard in the face.

Randy staggered back, trying to shake off the blow. For an instant, the image of Ashley, slumped agains the wall, clutching her face, popped into his head, and the Legend Killer returned the favor, nailing Matt with a straight right hand. The two exchanged blows for a few seconds before Randy hit Matt across the back with a hard forearm, knocking the other Superstar to his knees.

The third-generation Superstar moved back a step, gingerly massaging his jaw. All around him, fans were screaming, cheering Matt, booing him, telling him that he sucked, that he was nothing, that he was _worthless._ And in some ways, they were right...because that's how he felt right now.

_Worthless._

The elder Hardy brother got to his feet, ricocheting off the ropes and launching himself toward the Legend Killer. Randy went for a clothesline, but Matt dodged it easily, ducking and heading for the other side of the ring. As he hit the opposite set, however, he stumbled, turning and glaring reproachfully over the top. Below him, Cowboy Bob backed away, holding out his arms and making a phony show of innocence. _Good ol' Dad..._Randy thought to himself, but the thought brought him no amusement. Nothing about this match brought him any sort of enjoyment, not even his own father's interference on his behalf. He knew that his expression was fixed in its customary one of arrogant determination, and that for all intents and purposes, he looked like the heel everyone loved to hated--but deep down, he felt nothing. No rage, no hatred, nothing...except perhaps a sense of pity.

He had always felt sorry for Matt for what had happened to him, and truth be told, he couldn't blame him for how he had reacted earlier--but he would never forgive him for putting his hands on Ashley like that.

Matt turned back toward the ring, and Randy came at him, trying for another clothesline. Once again, however, the other Superstar ducked, and looping his arm over Randy's shoulder, drove them both down to the mat with the Side Effect.

The offensive move knocked the wind out of the Legend Killer, and for a moment, all he could do was lie there, staring up at the blinding lights above him. He was vaguely aware of Matt grabbing his leg, hooking it for the pin, but Randy's impending defeat was the last thing on his mind. His mind was somewhere else--full of _someone_ else.

_Do you have any idea what she's given up for you_?...the Legend Killer shouted silently at the elder Hardy brother. _She cares about YOU, she chose YOU, she loves YOU--I don't understand how she can love me more than you. _

_ I don't understand it anymore than you do--because of the two of us, you're a better man than I'll ever be..._

_ 1...2..._

Randy's shoulder shot off the canvas, breaking the count. Matt let out a low growl of frustration, and grabbing the third-generation Superstar, pulled him to his feet. Tucking Randy's head under his arm, he extended his other in the air, yelling wordlessly--the signal that a Twist of Fate was on the horizon. As he turned to launch his body toward the mat, Randy wriggled free, grabbing Matt's neck and slamming him face-down onto the canvas with the devastating maneuver known only as the RKO. Korderas was on the mat, his hand slamming against the pristine white surface.

_1...2...3..._

The crowd erupted in boos, their vocal vitriol almost drowning out the sound of his entrance theme. For a few moments, Randy stood there, staring down at the limp figure of Ashley Massaro's boyfriend, feeling nothing--no satisfaction, no elation, nothing at all.

_What a waste..._the Legend Killer thought dully to himself. _What a goddamn waste..._

His father was at his side now, raising his arm in victory, and it took everything Randy had not to yank it away and storm to the back. Instead, he plastered a confident smile on his face, striding to the turnbuckle, climbing it, and extending his arms in his usual pose--hoping that going through the motions would make him forget how empty he felt--

The cold clang of the church bell obliterated every thought from his mind. Randy hopped down off the turnbuckle post, his phony smile giving way to a very real expression of unease. He glanced at his dad, hoping that the sound he had just heard was all in his head--and felt his anxiety ratchet up several levels at the look of frantic bewilderment on the Hall of Famer's face.

The bell rang again, and the lights abruptly cut out, the few remaining ones washing over him in a haze of blue. Randy could feel cold sweat trickling down his back, could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up--and then he heard _it_, the one sound he had hoped to never hear again, the one _voice_ he had hoped had died in that fiery casket.

_**Hello, Randy...**_

Randy's heart began pounding, until it felt like it was going to pop out of his chest like the monster in those Alien movies. He looked all around, his eyes darting everywhere, but save for him and his father, the ring was empty.

_**What?**_...The voice sounded almost amused. _**You don't know who this is?**_ There was a pause, and when it spoke again, there was no amusement in its tone this time. _**This...is the man you tried to kill. This...is the Undertaker**_**!**

"No..." the Legend Killer whispered, his mouth dry. He could feel his dad tugging at his arm, telling him that they needed to go, and Randy let him lead him, rolling out of the ring, and stumbling up the ramp. They had just reached the top when an enormous bolt of lightning appeared out of nowhere, striking the ramp and sending up a shower of sparks. Randy reared back, almost falling over. Forgetting about his father, forgetting about everyone except himself, he dashed back to the ring, sliding inside, as though the square encased in blue ropes was capable of protecting him from evil.

_**What's wrong, Randy**_**? **The voice was cold, mocking. _**Don't you feel safe anymore? **_Another pause. _**Randy...I'm coming for you!**_

"Stop!" the Legend Killer screamed, clamping his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the hated voice. "Stop!" For a second, the memory of the casket, its flames shooting up toward the ceiling, flashed across his mind, and Randy squeezed his eyes shut. "You're dead..." he whispered fiercely through clenched teeth. "You're _dead_--"

_**What's the matter, Randy? You're not afraid of caskets, are you?**_ It was as though the voice could read his mind. _**You didn't seem to mind caskets when it was **__**me**__** inside. **_The voice fell silent for a second, then: _**Remember...remember your destiny? **_For a moment, it seemed like the owner of the voice was right next to him. _**Your destiny...is right before your eyes. Randy...you tried to **__**kill**__**me--but **__**I'm**__** the one who does the killing!**_

"No..." Randy collapsed to his knees, hands pressed together as though in prayer. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this scared, the kind of stark raw terror that brought him almost to tears. He looked around at the sea of blue light and darkness surrounding him--an atmosphere that could also contain the presence of the Deadman. "Where are you?" he whispered. "Where are you?"

_**You look lost, boy! **_The Undertaker's voice--because it _was_ his voice; no one else on the roster possessed that distinctive emotionless drawl--sounded almost gleeful. _**You don't know where you're going, do you**_**? **There was a low chuckle. _**Randy...you're going with me--straight to HELL**_**!**

Randy felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, and it took all he had left not to puke all over the canvas, but the Deadman wasn't finished. _**Hell...In A Cell**_**!**

The voice mercifully fell silent, replaced by the dead march of the Undertaker's theme music. The third-generation Superstar barely heard it; he was too busy trying to process what had just happened. The Deadman...alive...beckoning him to one more match, one more dance inside the squared circle.

And not just any match, but a bout inside the Devil's Playground. The _Undertaker's _playground. Hell in a Cell matches--they shortened careers, changed lives--and men who survived them walked out, but never walked out the same.

As he sat there, still locked in the position of penitent prayer, the Legend Killer froze, as a new notion flitted across his mind:

_As long as I can get to her...I can get to you..._

Randy gagged, struggling to get to his feet, trying to will his limbs back into action. Ashley was still backstage, waiting for him. She was backstage, all alone--with a man he had once tried to kill. The only person who meant anything to him--alone with the Undertaker.

The Legend Killer rolled out of the ring, staggering toward the ramp, one thought burning in his head, the only thing allowing him to put one foot in front of the other.

He had to get back there. _He had to save her._

* * *

Ashley leaned back against the wall, holding an ice pack to her eye. The ice had numbed her skin enough so that she no longer felt the pain, but one glance in the mirror had told her that she was going to have one hell of a black eye tomorrow.

But then again, who was she to complain? Right now, there were two Superstars out in the ring, killing each other because of her--what right did she had to bitch about a lousy shiner?

The rookie Diva tilted her head back, fighting the urge not to cry--not just because she was tired of crying, but because doing so would hurt like a bitch. But she couldn't help it--in the space of a few minutes, her life had gone from awful to wonderful to near-catastrophic...and since then, nothing had changed for the better. Thanks to her, Matt's heart had been broken. Thanks to her, the elder Hardy brother had almost _died_--and now, the two men in her life, the man she loved, and the one she wished she could have loved more, were beating the crap out of each other in a wrestling ring. It was her fault that everything had gone straight to hell.

_It was her fault._

That's why she was out here in the hall, instead of in the locker room watching the match. Because every punch that was thrown, every kick, every suplex or clothesline--she would have known that it was thanks to her.

Ashley let out her breath in a low shuddering gasp. So this is what it felt like to break a man's heart. This agony, this pain inside her chest, these feelings of hopelessness and utter worthlessness--how could Lita endure this? How could _anyone_ endure this--let alone feel satisfaction? Her heart felt too big for her chest, like it was going to explode outward, and leave her hollow. Ashley kind of wished that it would.

She would rather feel nothing than this.

The lights flickered, jarring the Diva Search winner from her protective cocoon of self-pity. Ashley frowning, looking up at the light panel. The long fluorescent tubes dimmed for a moment, and then brightened.

Dimmed and brightened.

Dimmed and brightened.

The rookie Diva averted her gaze, shaking her head. Probably nothing more than a glitch in the wiring--but at the same time, there was something unnerving about this particular glitch. As though it was being done..._deliberately_. But that was impossible, that was _crazy_...wasn't it?

Ashley caught a flicker of motion in the corner of her eye, and turned her head. Down the hall to her right, the light panels were shutting off one by one, throwing the space beneath them into darkness. The Diva Search winner rose to her feet, backing away a pace or two, irrational terror fluttering through her. Flickering lights were one thing, but this...

This wasn't right--this was _unnatural_--

_This was impossible_.

"Ashley!"

The rookie Diva whirled around, the sound of the Legend Killer's voice enough to distract her from the horrifying phenomenon approaching her. Down the hall to the left, there seemed to be a commotion, as though someone was trying to force their way through the horde of people milling about. As she watched, the sea of bodies parted, and Randy staggered through, moving on legs that threatened to give out beneath him.

Ashley could not describe the emotion that surged upward in her the moment she saw him--the peculiar combination of intense love and guilt that almost overwhelmed her. As soon as the Legend Killer saw her, he halted, his handsome face easing in an expression of relief. He continued toward her--and then stopped suddenly, his body tensing, his face freezing in an expression of disbelieving fear. His lips moved; Ashley thought he was saying: "No..."--and then he was bolting towards her, his voice carrying even from all the way down the hall.

"Ash! Ashley--_get outta there_! Run! _Run!_"

Ashley started to ask why, but then she felt it--the breeze without wind, the sound without sound, the eerie prickling of her skin that told her she was no longer alone. She could feel the darkness pressing against her back, almost like a palpable presence itself, and even though the rookie Diva wanted to run, to flee from the black void about to engulf her, she found herself instead turning to face it. Her blue-green irises widened as she stared up into the impassive countenance of the Undertaker.

The Diva Search winner couldn't move, couldn't speak--let alone scream. The Undertaker's eyes--they were like deep green pools, and she could feel herself being drawn toward them, falling into them. Randy's voice died away into silence, replaced by an eerie high-pitched humming. She could see the Deadman's gloved hand descending toward her face, and although her mind was squealing in terror, her body would not obey.

The Undertaker's fingers grazed her forehead. His touch was light, his skin ice-cold.

Instantly, a foul oily blackness ripped through Ashley's mind, penetrating every pore, violating every aspect of her consciousness. The rookie Diva screamed, but the blackness climbed down her throat, choking her and silencing her cries. She tried to look away, but couldn't--she had no choice but to stare into those green eyes, stare until his face faded into shadow, and only those eyes remained.

And then...there was only darkness.


	33. Chapter 33: When It's Over

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Yes, it's true--I swear I'm not dead! I took a week-and-a-half hiatus from FF because I had monstrous amounts of schoolwork to finish (90+ pages of screenplay, 8+ pages of research paper, 2 12-hour-days of shooting, etc, etc) and let me tell you--it almost drove me out of my f'n gourd. Plus, this chapter was one of those emotional drainers. And I'm going to apologize in advance for Torrie and Candice in this chapter. They are the villains and we're supposed to hate them...but even they get on my nerves sometimes and I frickin' write 'em that way. BUT...I hope you enjoy nonetheless. PEACE!**

**Thank you to **raven-serotonin, Souless666, iluvmycena, xxxMusicPassionxxx, xDarexToxDreamx, Clairey Chan, beautifultragedyxxx, rockmyworldx3, BigRedMachineUK, SLSheartsRKO, **and **MissMikkiMouse **for all your awesome feedback! Love yas!

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Chapter 33: When It's Over

Ashley returned to consciousness with an unforgiving abruptness, arching her body upward, a choked scream escaping her throat. The rookie Diva groped blindly in front of her, unable to make out her surroundings, her mind still partially trapped in that unspeakable nightmare world. Panic had taken hold of her, its frigid claws digging into her insides, and Ashley was vaguely aware that she was pleading, spitting out two words over and over again in a mewling cry....

_Get away get away get away get away..._

Strong arms wrapped around her slender frame, pulling her against a broad chest, and the Diva Search winner struggled in the embrace, thinking it was the Undertaker returning to once more claim her as his own. But then, gradually, she felt the warmth of the other individual seep into her body, burning away the icy fear, followed by Randy's frantic whisper in her ear:

"Ash! It's me! It's Randy! Wake up! _Wake up_!"

Ashley's eyes flew open and she looked up, her blue-green irises immediately locking onto Randy's azure ones. For a few moments, she stared at the Legend Killer, unable to talk, barely able to _breathe_, before she burst into tears, pent-up emotion pouring out of her in hoarse sobs. Randy immediately pulled her close, and she clung to him, pressing her face against his chest.

The third-generation Superstar rested his chin on top of her head, his face already twisting in furious misery. "It's all my fault," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "I couldn't get there in time. By the time I got there, it was too late and he was gone..." His deep voice trailed off, and he pulled Ashley back, holding her face gently in both hands and peering into her eyes. "What did he do to you?" Randy asked, his tone low but forceful. His blue irises were bright and crackling with anger. "_Did he hurt you_?"

The rookie Diva swallowed hard. She could feel the heat of Randy's fury emanating from his body in waves, but there was something comforting about it. His wrath--it was like a shield, surrounding them both...protecting them both. Her voice, when she eventually spoke, was a quavering whisper: "He..._touched_...me..." Ashley reached up, her fingertips grazing the spot where the Undertaker had touched her, shuddering as she remembered the iciness of his caress. She squeezed her eyes closed, taking a deep breath as she struggled to get the words out. "And then...he was..._inside me_...inside my head."

The Diva Search winner swallowed again. "It was like...someone shot me in the head. Only...instead of a bullet...it was the most fucked-up shit imaginable." Ashley shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. "It...it was _awful._ It was like...like being raped."

Her voice cracked, but Ashley kept on talking, her words barely intelligible through her tears. "I couldn't _move_, I couldn't _scream_--and the whole time, he just _stood_ there, _staring_ at me--" At this, her self-control finally failed her, and the rookie Diva broke down crying again.

Randy quickly wrapped his arms around her again, cradling her protectively in his embrace. He stroked her hair, burying his fingers in her long golden locks. "He won't hurt you again," the Legend Killer whispered, his voice tight and thick with emotion. "You hear me? I won't _let _him hurt you." He pressed his lips to the top of her head, his eyes staring straight ahead with a look that was both enraged and anguished. "_I promise..._"

There was a tentative knock at the door, but both of them ignored it. It wasn't until the door swung open and a deliberate cough broke the silence that the pair looked up. Ashley instantly felt her throat swell shut when she saw Matt Hardy standing on the other side of the room.

The elder Hardy brother's face was unreadable; there were too many different emotions fighting for dominance on his features to wager a guess as to what he was _really_ thinking. However, she definitely noticed a little more hatred, a little more vitriol, when he swung his gaze toward the third-generation Superstar.

For the first time, Ashley was able to study her surroundings, and realized that the three of them were in the trainer's room; she was seated on the padded examination table. The trainer was unusually absent--but then again, what fool would want to be present in the midst of this?

Matt shoved his hands into his pocket, shuffling his feet awkwardly against the floor. "I need...to talk to Ashley." His voice sounded hollow, as though he was attempting, with everything he had left, not to let his true feelings show. He paused, before adding with particular emphasis: "_Alone_."

Ashley felt Randy's arms tighten around her possessively. "Like _hell_ you will--" the Legend Killer growled, his tone soft, but no less intimidating.

"It's all right," The rookie Diva was astounded by how calm and even her voice sounded. She pressed one hand against the third-generation Superstar's chest, hoping that the simple contact would be enough to prevent him from starting another altercation. Amazingly, it worked; slowly, she felt the tension drain from Randy's body, and his grip on her relaxed. "I'll be fine,"

The Legend Killer turned his gaze back toward her, the look of cold fearlessness on his handsome features softening when his eyes met hers. "I promise," Ashley whispered, echoing Randy's vow from a few moments earlier.

Randy stared hard at her for several seconds before grudgingly bobbing his head up and down in a terse nod. "All right," Leaning down and taking her face in his hands, he kissed her forehead tenderly, his lips lingering against her skin. "I'll be out in the hall." His voice was a quiet murmur, but Ashley could still feel his words vibrating through her.

Drawing back with evident reluctance, the third-generation Superstar rose to his feet, turning toward the door. As he did, his eyes met Matt's. From the way the elder Hardy brother was clenching and unclenching his fists, from the way his dark irises were practically shooting sparks--the kiss had clearly not been lost on him.

Randy's affectionate countenance immediately vanished, his lean muscular frame tensing. The two men sized each other up silently, like two alpha males fighting over a potential mate, and for a few heart-stopping moments, Ashley was sure that they were going to come to blows yet again. But Randy merely sidled toward the door, pulling it open and slipping out into the corridor.

It wasn't until the door closed quietly behind him that Matt sagged a little, letting his breath out in a heavy sigh. Lowering his gaze, he stared at the floor for a second or two, before looking up and locking eyes with the rookie Diva.

The silence was deafening--there was something about that silence that was even more terrifying than Matt's enraged shouts earlier. After a few moments, Ashley couldn't even bring herself to look at him anymore; instead, she ducked her head, clasping her hands together in her lap and staring intensely at her fingernails.

The SmackDown Superstar was the one to break the quiet, clearing his throat. "So...how are you feeling?"

His tone was cold, unemotional--but there was warmth and feeling lurking at the edges of his voice. Just the sound of it made Ashley's heart wrench painfully within her chest. Despite everything that had happened tonight--even now, in the midst of their ruined relationship, it was obvious that Matt Hardy still cared about her. Still, in some ways, _loved_ her.

And somehow, that hurt even worse than betraying him.

The Diva Search winner blinked rapidly, trying to force back her tears. "All right," she replied, her voice a barely audible whisper.

Even though she couldn't see him, she could still feel Matt's eyes on her face, like the faint tingle of static electricity. When he spoke again, his words emerged with considerably less ease: "How's...the eye?"

Ashley squeezed her lids closed, but not quick enough to prevent a single tear from trickling down her cheek. "Better..." Her throat felt raw, as though she had been screaming, and her chest was painfully tight, so tight that she almost couldn't breathe.

"I'm sorry," The elder Hardy brother's voice was so quiet that she nearly missed it. There was pain in his tone; real, raw pain, as though for just an instant, he'd allowed the emotional wounds inside him to open up and bleed out into his words.

Ashley lifted her chin a little, still incapable of looking Matt in the eye. "I know..." She didn't add anything else--there was nothing else to say.

The rookie Diva would have done anything, _anything_--crawled naked on broken glass, walked on her lips through raw sewage--to not be here right now. The last place she wanted to be was in this room, having this conversation with a man she had once claimed to love.

But that was the price of betrayal. If she ran from this, it would be no different than if she had run from Candice, or Torrie, or any one of the numerous obstacles she had faced in her brief tenure with the WWE. In this case, it would be even worse, because _this_..._this was her fault._

She heard Matt cough awkwardly. "Guess I'm going to have to be the one to say it," He paused for a second. "Did you sleep with him?"

Even though she had been anticipating the query, Ashley still felt the brusqueness of Matt's tone rock her like a slap. The Diva Search winner lifted her head up, her stomach plummeting into the abyss when she beheld Matt's tortured expression. "Yes," she whispered.

As the single-syllable affirmative rippled in the air between them, Matt's eyes squeezed shut in pain and he turned away for a second or two. Ashley felt her lip start to tremble, and she bit down on it, bit down until she felt the coppery tang of blood fill her mouth.

Matt didn't look at her as he spoke; only stared hard at the wall. It was as though, with his worst fears finally confirmed, he no longer could bring himself to look at her. "How many times?"

Ashley swallowed hard. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. "Only once," she admitted. "Two nights ago...after Survivor Series--"

"But it's been going on longer than that," the elder Hardy brother interrupted, turning back to face her. His voice was still quiet, resigned, but Ashley could hear the first faint flicker of anger in his tone--an emotion which, she suspected, was only going to intensify as the conversation went on. "Whatever it is between the two of you--it was going on long before Survivor Series."

Ashley opened her mouth to protest, then stopped. What would be the point? In his own way, Matt was right--she might have only slept with the Legend Killer once, but she had been cheating on the elder Hardy brother emotionally almost since the day they had met.

Matt tilted his chin up. Again, his voice sounded forced, as though it was taking an extreme exertion just to get the words out: "Do you love him?"

For an instant, Ashley was transported back to that hallway in the arena in Dallas, to that moment in time when Randy had once asked her the same question about Matt. Back then, the rookie Diva hadn't been sure. But now, with the two men reversed...there was no such hesitation. Ashley stared at the elder Hardy brother, feeling something inside her--an invisible chain she hadn't even known existed--snap in two, making her feel lighter...making her feel free.

"_Yes_."

Matt's expression instantly crumbled in misery, and Ashley felt her newfound sense of empowerment evaporate. Just seeing him, forced to listen for the second time to the one thing no man in love wants to hear--the Diva Search winner wanted to rise to her feet, to close the distance between them, to pull him into her arms and cry.

But Ashley did none of these things. Instead, she sat there, hands clasped together limply in her lap, watching as her boyfriend's--no, _ex_-boyfriend's world collapsed around him yet again. "Matt..." the rookie Diva whispered after several long moments had passed. "I'm so sorry--"

"Did you love me?" The elder Hardy brother didn't look at her as he spoke, but Ashley could hear the anger in his voice growing with each passing second. "Did you..._ever_...love me--or was that just a lie, too?"

The Diva Search winner rapidly shook her head, her throat closing up, making speech nearly impossible. "I never lied about that," she answered, trying to keep her voice neutral. "A lot of things, yes--about Randy, about what he meant to me...but never about that." Leaning against the padded table for support, Ashley rose to her feet, staring steadily at the SmackDown Superstar. "Whether you want to believe it or not, I _do_ love you--"

"But not like you love him!" It was both a statement and a question; Ashley had no option but to nod slowly. Matt finally looked her way. He was breathing hard, one hand pressed against the wall for support. His eyes were blazing with barely contained emotion. "How?" Pushing himself up, he took a step toward her, then another. His voice was full of angry incredulity. "Randy Orton...is a fucking _monster_. He almost _killed_ me--how can you love someone like that?"

Ashley pressed her lips together, trying not to flinch as Matt's verbal barbs pierced her skin, lodging deep within her. It was taking everything she had at this point not to break down entirely, and with every passing moment, she knew she was nearing that eventual moment where emotion would overwhelm her. But the rookie Diva hung on grimly, knowing that, whatever _did_ happen, she had to follow it through to the end.

She owed it to Matt. She owed it to them both.

"I can't...explain it..." the Diva Search winner replied hesitantly. She looked away, her eyes scanning the ceiling as she attempted to find the words. "It's like...there was a part of me...a part that was always missing...and it wasn't until I met..._him_...that I realized...he was _it_." She lowered her lids, gazing at the world through nearly-closed eyes. "When I'm around him, I feel...I don't know..._whole_, somehow. Like...he was what I needed all along."

It was the wrong thing to say, and she _knew_ it--but at the same time, there was no other way to say it. There was no other way to describe the connection that existed, that had _always_ existed, between her and the Legend Killer.

"So...what?" Matt sounded almost annoyed. "You're saying that you and the great Randy Orton are soulmates?" A note of sarcasm crept into his voice. "That you and that _psychopath_ are the WWE's answer to Romeo and Juliet?" The elder Hardy brother rolled his eyes. "I don't believe it--"

In spite of herself, Ashley felt hot rage flicker across her mind. "_Fuck you_." the rookie Diva spat, whirling around to face the elder Hardy brother.

Matt blinked in surprise, his mouth moving silently like a fish out of water. Whatever he had been expecting from his girlfriend at this point in the conversation, it certainly wasn't that particular epithet. "Ash, I--"

"Shut up!" the Diva Search winner snapped. Jamming her hands in her hair, she finger-combed it back from her face, glaring at the SmackDown Superstar, fully ensnared in the claws of her irrational anger. "You think that I'm _enjoying_ this--that I _wanted_ this?" Ashley shook her head vehemently. "I didn't want this. I never wanted _any_ of this to happen."

Her voice, so strong a moment ago, suddenly broke. "I never wanted to _hurt_ anyone--"

"But you _did_, Ash." Matt's tone was quiet, resigned, as though the fight had been drained from him. The elder Hardy brother leaned against the wall, staring at his girlfriend with eyes that were already beginning to dull--Ashley thought she could glimpse tears in them as well. "You did. You hurt _me_." Matt closed his eyes for a second, sucking in a breath before going on. "I loved you, baby girl--and you broke my _heart_."

"I'm sorry," The rookie Diva's voice was no longer miserable or angry, but _tired_. But...there was regret in there, too; deep aching regret for what she had done to the both of them that she could feel in her bones. "I hurt you, and you didn't deserve it, and you have every right to hate me--but I..._can't...do this...anymore_."

She covered her mouth with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut for a second or two. "I can't lie to you anymore--and pretend that everything's fine and we're happy--when we're _not_. I can't act like I don't love Randy and want to be with him...which I do..." Tears oozed out of the corners of her eyes as she added the one thing which would fracture their relationship beyond all repair: "...more than...I want to be with you."

She couldn't see Matt, but nevertheless, she could hear him shift positions, probably turning to face the wall once again. Ashley didn't blame him--if she had been Matt, she wouldn't have wanted to look at her either. "Does this mean that I've got fresh hell to look forward to here on SmackDown?" The elder Hardy brother's voice was bitter, coated with an agonized resentment that would probably last a long time.

Ashley didn't mean to, but nonetheless found herself responding with an equal amount of spite. "You mean, am I going to jump ship to Friday nights, form the new heel couple with Randy, and make your life a living hell?" The Diva Search winner shook her head. "I might be a lying whore just like your ex--but I'm not a vindictive one."

She heard Matt suck in a breath, the sound of it almost like a sob, and knew that she had gone too far. The rookie Diva was aware that if she didn't say anything to amend the situation, the elder Hardy brother would hold onto his animosity for the rest of his life; would direct it at her in any way that he could...just as he had done with Lita.

But Ashley didn't care anymore. Right now, she was too shell-shocked, too tired, and too burnt-out by the evening's events to consider _anyone's_ feelings--even those of her now ex-boyfriend. Instead, she swiped a hand across her eyes, stumbling toward the door.

As she reached for the handle, she heard Matt's voice behind her. It was quiet, barely audible, and from the sound of it--the elder Hardy brother was near tears. "Ash...were we..._happy_? What we had--was it _real_?"

The Diva Search winner let out her breath in a soft shuddering sigh. "It was real," she whispered, in a tone as dull as his. "It just wasn't enough." Quickly, she twisted the knob to the right, yanking the door open and slipping out into the hall before she had to listen to the sound of Matt weeping.

* * *

Randy was waiting for her a few yards away, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chiseled chest. At the sight of the rookie Diva, the Legend Killer's face lit up and he straightened up to his full height, walking over to meet her halfway.

Ashley hugged herself with both arms. For some reason, her limbs had been infused with a chilling numbness--a freezing sensation which even Randy's smile seemed unable to banish.

The third-generation Superstar stopped right in front of her, peering critically into her face. "How...how is he?" he asked tentatively.

The Diva Search winner couldn't bite back a harsh bark of laughter at the rhetorical question. "He's hurt and he's pissed-off--how do you _think_ he is?" she retorted, sharper than she'd intended.

Randy flinched at the curtness of her tone, but still reached out toward her to pull her into his arm. "Ash--"

As soon as his fingers grazed her upper arms, Ashley felt something inside her shatter, embedding itself in her soul, and she jerked away from the Legend Killer's grasp. "Don't! Don't _touch_ me!"

Randy froze, his tattooed arms still outstretched, a hurt expression marring his handsome face. The rookie Diva backed away from him, the lump in her throat making speech almost impossible. "Don't you get it? He's in there _crying_ because of me! His heart is _broken_ because of me!"

Ashley pressed one hand to her temple; she could already feel the faint beginnings of a migraine starting behind her left eye. "Right now...I feel...like my head's about to explode--and my _heart_..." She swallowed her tears before continuing. "...it's like I can hardly _breathe_."

The Diva Search winner stared pleadingly at the third-generation Superstar. "I don't want to feel this, do you understand? I would give _anything _not to feel this." She shook her head. "I need some time...to let this all sink in...and until I do--" She took a deep breath and flicked her gaze back up toward Randy. "I can't be around you."

The stunned anguish that came across the Legend Killer's face was a pale echo of the countenance that Matt had worn, but it was enough to snap the few remaining threads holding back Ashley's emotions. The rookie Diva started to cry, ignoring the pain flaring upward from her bruised eye. "I can't be around either one of you."

She backed away another step. The pain inside her chest was too great; any minute, her heart was going to pop out and leave her bleeding on the floor. "I'm sorry..." the Diva Search winner managed to whisper, and before Randy could stop her, she spun around on her heel, running away from him, biting down on her knuckles to hold back her sobs as she wept.

She couldn't see the agonized expression on Randy's face...but she could imagine it. She was pretty sure that it mirrored her own.

* * *

Ashley leaned down over her feet, trying once again to focus on lacing up her knee-high boots. Normally, a task like this would have been nothing, but for some reason, on this particular evening, tying her shoes had taken on all the puzzling complexity of solving a Rubik's Cube.

It wasn't just her shoes that were giving her difficulties, however--it was the entirety of her existence. After returning to her hotel room on Tuesday night, she had collapsed on her double bed and cried, cried until there were no more tears, until her sobs had slowed to hiccups and she was doing nothing except going through the motions of weeping.

Exhaustion had eventually claimed her, and when she awoke the next morning, blinking slowly in the cold gray light, she realized that she was encased in a thick mental fog, a dense cocoon of insensitivity that kept the pain out--but at the same time, made even the smallest of tasks nearly impossible.

Ashley knew that she couldn't go on like this--she couldn't _survive_ like this--but feeling nothing was better than opening herself back up to the enormous ball of pain, guilt, and heartache threatening to crush her. She had broken a man's _heart_--a _good_ man's heart--and if she allowed herself to truly acknowledge that truth, there was a good chance that the remorse would kill her.

No one had said anything to her since she had arrived in Baton Rouge for Friday night's house show, but word traveled fast in the WWE, and if the expressions of the other Superstars she had passed were any indication, they had already heard.

More than that--they had already formed an opinion.

At least the women's locker room had been deserted when she had arrived, affording her the rare luxury of changing in private. But the rookie Diva knew this momentary lull was not destined to last. She had fucked up, fucked up _bad_--and there were three certain individuals on Raw who would enjoy nothing more than to remind her of that fact.

Three evil Divas who latched onto her misfortune like sharks smelling blood in the water.

Even before she could complete the thought, Ashley heard the door swing open, followed by the slow soft click of stiletto heels on cement. And the Diva Search winner could tell--either by some subtle shift in the temperature or by the way the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up--that the Wicked Witches of the Midwest had arrived.

Candice Michelle tilted her chin up haughtily, making a throaty sound that could have almost been a purr. "_Well_. If it isn't the 2005 Raw Diva Search winner, _Ashley Massaro_!" The brunette cocked her head toward her blond counterpart, smirking. "Or rather--what is it they're calling her out in the halls again, Tor?"

Torrie Wilson returned her friend's sneer, her blue eyes drifting back toward Ashley. "Oh, nothing really--just...the latest skank that Randy Orton stuck his dick into."

Ashley flinched a little at the slur, but otherwise, said nothing. As painful as this was, it was also unavoidable--and the only way to achieve any sort of upper hand in the situation would be to react as little as possible.

Besides--what could they possibly say to her that she wasn't already thinking about herself?

Candice made that satisfied sound in the back of her throat again. "It's ironic, though, don't you think?" The brunette Diva moved a little closer to the bench, her two cohorts flanking her on either side. She pressed one hand to her ample chest. "I mean, all those times that you called _me_ a slut--while the whole time, _you_ were the one screwing two guys at once."

Candice paused, clearly savoring the moment. "Then again, I knew the whole time what kind of girl you were." She indicated Torrie and Victoria. "All of us did--but now, it's not just us who know it." The Go Daddy spokesmodel's full lips drew back from her teeth in a cruel grin. "Now...it's everyone else, too."

"By the way," Torrie chimed in, her soft bubbly voice a stark contrast to her venomous words. "So sad to hear about you and Matt--the two of you were so _perfect_ together...in the sense that you were both disgustingly _pathetic_." Torrie rolled her azure irises at this, before adding: "I wonder, though, who it was that told him the truth--"

Before she could curb the impulse, the Diva Search winner shot to her feet, whirling around to face her tormentors. "Fuck you," Ashley whispered. She jabbed her index finger in their direction, indicating all of them. "Fuck _all of you_." The rookie Diva shook her head, pressing her lips together in an attempt to hold back her tears. In this moment of reflexive rage, the cocoon surrounding her had lifted--allowing all her other emotions to swarm in as well.

Ashley spread her arms wide. "Go ahead." she challenged. "You won, all right? You had your fun, you ruined my life--now just...leave me alone, okay?" Her tone was close to pleading, and she hated the sound of it, but the Diva Search winner was too upset to care. "Just leave me alone."

For a moment, the evil trio didn't speak; merely regarded her with the same fascination one gives to an exotic animal at the zoo. Candice was the one to break the silence, letting out a laugh that was both musical and malicious. "Oh, _Ashley_," the brunette Diva drawled condescendingly, staring at the rookie Diva as though she was slow. "Don't you get it? You're just a toy to us." She licked her lips, and Ashley was reminded of a predator licking its chops. "A little toy for us to play with--and we're _far_ from through with you."

Ashley didn't reply; only stared steadily back at the villainous trio. Candice went on. "And as for us ruining your life--all _we_ did was tell the truth." She pointed at Ashley. "_You're _the one who tried to have it both ways."

The brunette Diva stepped forward, until only the bench separated her from Ashley. She leaned closer, her face mere inches from the Diva Search winner's. "So hate us all you want--because deep down, you know that the only person you have to blame is _yourself_--"

Rage flickered across Ashley's mind, hot black rage that briefly stole the sight from her eyes. It was like the brief sputter of a candle before it is extinguished, like the flutter of black wings--but at the same time, there was a sort of clarity in that kind of dark fury. WIth one fluid motion, the rookie Diva swung her arm up, the hard joint of her elbow catching Candice square in the face.

There was a soft cracking sound, like an egg dropped onto pavement. The brunette Diva let out a strangled squeal, staggering backward, her hand darting up to cover her face. Torrie and Victoria both gasped in unison, their jaws dropping, eyes blinking rapidly in surprise.

Ashley watched Candice retreat, unable to move, unable to even lower her upraised arm. She felt like she was caught in a dream--everything seemed too bright, too distinct, too unreal to possibly be reality. She couldn't believe what she had just done.

Candice slowly turned back toward her, gulping down breath after breath. She lowered her hand, but there was no need--blood was already pouring down her face, over her chin, drops of it plopping on her exposed cleavage. "You bitch," the brunette Diva remarked, her voice deathly calm. "You broke my nose."--only it sounded like: "You broke by doze."

The Go Daddy spokesmodel took a step toward Ashley, then another, her dark eyes already growing bright with fury. "You _bitch_!" Candice screeched. "_You broke my nose_!" With a primal scream that sounded as though it had been wrenched up from Hell itself, the brunette Diva launched herself forward, leaping over the bench and tackling the Diva Search winner.

The two of them went down, the back of Ashley's skull connecting with the wooden shelves as she fell. Immediately, pain radiated outward, engulfing her head and neck, and a wave of intense dizziness overtook her. Candice knelt over her prone body, still shrieking, swinging at the rookie Diva with wild blows.

Above her, Torrie and Victoria looked at the pair, then at each other. They hesitated for only half a second longer before joining the fray, lashing out with vicious kicks to Ashley's unprotected legs and abdomen, their high heels digging into her skin and almost assuredly leaving bruises.

The Diva Search winner just laid there, feeling each blow as it connected, both unable and unwilling to summon the energy to fight back. What difference would it make? It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't stop Candice from--for once in her miserable life--being absolutely right.

Besides...after what she had done to Matt...she _deserved _this.

_Hate us all you want...you know the only person you have to blame is yourself..._

Candice's remark was drowned out by the brunette Diva's furious screams: "Get her up! Get her up!" Torrie and Victoria obeyed; each of them taking an arm, they mercilessly yanked Ashley up to her knees. Ashley's head lolled backward, her blue-green irises glazed and unfocused. She was barely coherent; everything was too loud, too violent. Above her, she could see Candice, blood staining the lower half of her face, her lithe figure trembling with rage, her palm outstretched to deliver a stinging slap.

As Ashley stared at her dully, she heard a voice in the back of her mind. It was faint, almost a whisper--but it definitely did not sound like any inner voice she possessed.

_They will pay for this_...

The Diva Search winner froze. For just a moment, just an _instant_, she sensed _something_--another entity, another presence other than herself--hovering at the edges of her mind, lurking in the dark recesses of her skull like a spider...

Any further opportunity to ponder this new enigma, however, was prevented by Trish, who suddenly materialized behind Candice, wrenching her arm behind her back and flinging her aside. The brunette Diva stumbled, almost losing her balance, prevented from doing so only by grabbing onto the shelves for support.

Ashley felt Torrie and Victoria's grip on her loosen and disappear. A second later, she felt hands on her arms again, but it was gentle, supporting. A quick glance in both directions brought her face-to-face with the concerned faces of Mickie and Maria.

The rookie Diva looked back toward the door. Candice had recovered her footing and all of her wrath, glaring at Ashley as though the force of her gaze could burn a hole through the Diva Search winner. Her mouth was moving; Ashley realized that she was still screaming: "--this isn't over! I'm going to Eric Bischoff, and get a match against you, and I'm gonna make sure it's for Monday night so the whole world can see me _kick_ _your ass_! You hear me? You hear me, _you worthless skank--_"

"_Shut the fuck up_, you horse-humping bitch," Trish interrupted. Her voice was quiet, but filled with the threat of potential violence. Candice, amazingly, obeyed, her mouth snapping closed. The Women's Champion jammed her thumb in the direction of the door. "Go clean yourself up--Gold only knows what kinds of STDs you're leaking out all over the floor."

At this, Candice's jaw dropped in stunned surprise, and she began shrieking again, wordless cries of fury that echoed off the cinderblock walls. She lunged toward the Canadian beauty, but Torrie and Victoria grabbed her arms, restraining her and dragging her out the door.

Ashley stared up at her mentor, still trying to process this last-minute rescue. She thought she glimpsed a smile on the face of the Women's Champion, but when Trish turned to look at her, her expression was unreadable. She made no attempt to help the rookie Diva up. "You all right?"

Ashley nodded silently. For a second, Trish's green eyes narrowed imperceptibly, her gaze becoming just a bit more steely. "Good," the Canadian beauty replied. She glanced at both Mickie and Maria before turning her attention back to Ashley. "We'll talk tonight." It was an order, not a request. "Until then..."

Trish paused, and Ashley knew the rest of the sentence before she even said it; knew it in the way she hunched her shoulders, in the way her lip curled ever-so-slightly. "Until then," the Women's Champion repeated. "Stay the hell away from me." Turning her back on her protegee, Trish strode toward the door, pulling it open and exiting the room.

The force of the rejection hit Ashley harder than any bump she'd taken in the ring, and for a second, she was reminded of what she'd told Randy only a few nights before....

_If I walk out that door, I'll have nothing...no boyfriend, no reputation...no friends...._

Covering her face with her hands, the Diva Search winner began to cry.


	34. Chapter 34: I'll Never Be You

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I really want to apologize, both for the short length of this chapter and the delay in getting it out. I've been dealing with a lot of personal issues lately, and I kind of fell out of writing, and am only now starting to ease back into it. Also, I had trouble with this chapter-I kept editing it and changing it and staring at the screen and cursing and...you know the drill. I still kind of hate it, so I apologize if it's not as strong as the others. Enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **Clairey Chan, raven serotonin, Souless666, rockmyworldx3, BigRedMachineUK, beautifultragedyxxx, MissMikkiMouse, rory21, Ashleymassarophan1, **and** justbornawesome **for reviewing the last chapter! Way to make me feel like a slacker, lol. Love yas!

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Chapter 34: I'll Never Be You

_We'll talk tonight…until then…stay the hell away from me…_

Ashley pressed her forehead against the door to Trish's hotel room, her mentor's final words to her echoing ceaselessly in her mind. She felt like a used-up husk of her former brash, confident self—thin, transparent, the gnawing ache of dread in the pit of her stomach the only sensation anchoring her to reality.

Everything seemed to be slipping away from her, tumbling down toward chaos with an alarming rapidity. Her life had taken on the hazy surreal quality of a dream—too bizarre to be real, too real to be fake—and just like in a dream, the rookie Diva was unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything except watch as everything fell apart around her. Even her altercation with Candice a few hours before seemed unreal, despite the painful bruises on her body that protested otherwise.

Ashley had foolishly hoped that the time for judgment had ended back with Matt in the trainer's room. She had fucked up; there was no denying that—no matter what excuses she made about her behavior, she had still lied to the elder Hardy brother and slept with another man behind his back. But whatever punishment she deserved should be meted out by Matt…and seeing the heartbroken expression on her now-ex-boyfriend's face had been more than ample penalty for her sins.

But tonight, when she had looked up into Trish's unwavering green eyes, the Diva Search winner had realized that her punishment was still far from complete. There had been a look of hurt betrayal in the Women's Champion's gaze that was eerily similar to what she had glimpsed in Matt's countenance only three days before…and Ashley had no doubt that whatever awaited her on the other side of this door would be just as excruciating.

The rookie Diva's lips quivered, but she didn't cry; her body's supply of tears was utterly depleted. Ashley felt empty, deflated, exhausted of all energy, emotion, and feeling…save for an almost overwhelming sensation of fatigue.

She was tired. She was so very very tired.

Without lifting her head from the door's wooden surface, Ashley reached up, groping for and locating the handle, pushing it down. The door was unlocked; it swung open easily, the interior's faint golden light spilling out into the hallway. Closing her eyes and drawing in a low shaky breath, the Diva Search winner stepped inside.

The first thing she saw was Maria and Mickie sitting next to each other on one of the twin beds, both of them wearing nearly identical expressions of uneasy apprehension. As Ashley moved into the main room, walking out of the shadows into the light, their gazes silently swung to her in unison, briefly reminding her of those creepy twin girls from The Shining.

Any future comparisons to horror films, however, were obliterated in the next instant, as the rookie Diva focused on the room's other occupant-the lithe, athletic frame of the Women's Champion.

Trish was pacing back and forth along the narrow aisle between the two beds, her arms crossed over her chest, the light from the table lamp casting her into silhouette. Noticing the other Divas' shift in focus, the Canadian beauty paused in her step and turned as well, her green eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly at the sight of the Diva Search winner.

In spite of the numbness infusing her body, Ashley still felt her stomach give a sickening lurch as Trish's gaze fastened onto hers and it was only with effort that she was able to keep moving forward. Trish did the same, stepping out from around the bed, halting less than six inches from her protégé. She tilted her head to the side, studying the rookie Diva. Her expression was cool, almost disinterested...save for the probing intensity in her eyes. She looked composed-but Ashley had seen enough over the past week to know that it was merely the calm before the storm; the hush of stillness that precedes a violent outpouring of emotion.

Trish lifted her chin a little, her eyes never leaving Ashley's as she spoke. "So...anything you have to say for yourself?" Her voice was flat, neutral, with only the slightest quaver betraying her true feelings.

Silence followed her question. Seconds ticked by, their duration feeling more like years. Finally, the Diva Search winner shook her head, a slow movement from left to right. "I-" Her voice was a hoarse cracked whisper. "I'm..._sorry_."

Trish stared at her for a moment longer, and then without warning, pulled back and slapped her protégé across the face. _Hard_.

The blow rocked Ashley back a step, her head snapping violently to the side. For several seconds, all she felt was the sensation of Trish's palm making contact with her cheek. She heard her heart thudding uncertainly in her ears, accompanied by a dizzying sense of vertigo that made her feel as though she was at the center of an out-of-control merry-go-round. She was too stunned to move, or even mentally process what had just occurred.

Then, with a WHOOSH, the rest of the world rushed back in, bringing with it clarity and pain, accompanied by the angry timbre of Trish's voice: "_Sorry_? You're _sorry_? In case you haven't noticed, _Ash_, it's a little too late for _sorry_!"

More words followed, but the rookie Diva tuned them out. She was pretty sure she already knew what they were, anyway-how Randy Orton was a bastard, how Matt didn't deserve this, how could she, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. Instead, Ashley slowly reached up, gingerly touching her face. Her cheek stung; her jaw in particular felt like it had been dislocated-she hadn't realized until now just how hard Trish could hit.

As she stood there, still reeling a little from the blow, hearing Trish read her the Riot Act without actually listening, the Diva Search winner felt a new sensation churning in the pit of her stomach...and that sensation was _anger_. Hot fiery anger that popped and bubbled inside her like molten lava.

She had often thought about the nature of her relationship with the Women's Champion; had wondered whether, regardless of the differences between them, they would ever truly be friends. Now she finally knew for certain that they never would be, and for one simple, singular reason: despite all they had been through together, Trish still didn't respect her.

For months, Ashley had walked a narrow tightrope between pupil and friend, swallowing her pride, keeping her mouth shut, saying nothing even when Trish's lectures ventured into her personal life. And the rookie Diva had always complied, chalking the Canadian beauty's words up to her years of experience.

But now...Ashley was starting to realize that maybe Trish didn't know as much as she claimed to; that she was using her experience and her six titles reigns as an excuse to act morally superior when in reality, she was probably as clueless as the Diva Search winner.

More than that...she wasn't the only one with secrets.

What other reason would Trish have for treating her like this, admonishing her the way a teacher scolds a student, or a parent a naughty child? Why else would she belt her own protégé across the face like a B-movie villain? The Women's Champion didn't respect Ashley, maybe didn't even _like_ her-but somehow, the rookie Diva found she was okay with that. The slap had been reprehensible, _painful_...but at the same time, it was a welcome wake-up call. It had forced everything into perspective, had allowed the Diva Search winner to finally understand that she didn't _have_ to take this.

To realize that she wasn't _going_ to take this.

Trish was still talking: "-just because you won some _contest_-" Her furious tirade abruptly ended in a surprised squeak as Ashley's arms shot out, catching her in the chest and shoving her backward. The Canadian beauty staggered, nearly losing her balance, her shins colliding with the edge of the bed.

Instantly, Mickie and Maria sprang to their feet, running over, inserting themselves in the yard of space between the two Divas. _Where were you two when she was slapping me across the face?..._Ashley thought sourly to herself, but said nothing. Instead, she focused her attention on the Women's Champion.

Trish stared back at her, her countenance stunned, her mouth a perfect "O" of surprise. She blinked once, twice, apparently unwilling to believe that her own mentee had just lashed out at her.

In the next moment, however, her shock vanished, replaced by a look of reflexive fury. _No one shoves me..._that look said. _I'm Trish fucking Stratus. I'm the Women's Champion!_ With a low snarl, Trish lunged toward the rookie Diva, prevented from actually tackling her by Mickie, who forcibly dragged her idol back. "You little-" the Women's Champion growled.

"_Shut up_." Ashley's tone was clipped and cold, the sound of it bringing instant quiet to the small room. Everyone froze; Trish ceased her struggling. Now it was Ashley's turn to lift her chin, to stare unflinchingly back at the Canadian beauty. Her fear, weighing inside her stomach like a stone, had suddenly dissipated, leaving her feeling curiously light. She stabbed her index finger toward her mentor. "You have..._no idea..._how _unbelievably shitty_ I feel right now-and the last thing I need is _you_, _in my face_, telling me what I did wrong!"

"What did you expect?" Trish had found her voice again, glaring at the Diva Search winner. "You cheated on Matt, you _fucked_ Randy Orton-"

"_I know what I did_!" the rookie Diva screamed. Stunned silence followed her outburst, and Ashley continued, her voice losing its volume, but none of its agitation. "Believe me, I _know_ that I fucked up. I fucked up _bad_-but that doesn't give you the right to hit me."

Trish didn't answer; only stared back at her with a kind of sullen acquiescence. The Diva Search winner went on, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even think about where she might be going with them: "Is this even about _me_? What I did? Or is it really about you?"

At this, Trish flinched. It was barely noticeable, little more than a shiver...but the rookie Diva still spotted it. The Women's Champion laughed, the sound of it harsh and grating. "Why...would this about _me_?"

Ashley met her gaze steadily. A flicker of awareness was growing inside her, on the verge of illuminating a hidden truth; a revelation that would shift the balance of power, perhaps irrevocably. It was faint, a tiny ember in a huge mound of fuel, awaiting that one little spark that will set the entire pile ablaze. Something she had once seen in Trish's eyes, back at Halloween, when Matt had burst into the women's locker room...

The rookie Diva took a deep breath and let the match fall. "_Because you're in love in Matt_."

It was little more than an assumption; a hypothesis gleamed from a brief glimpse into Trish's unprotected expression a month ago. Ashley still wasn't entirely sure that it was true. It wasn't until she saw the Canadian beauty's face go slack, saw her sink unsteadily down onto the edge of the bed, the aggression and the anger draining from her like air leaking from a punctured balloon...that she finally realized that it was.

Maria gasped, her green eyes darting from the Diva Search winner to Trish. "Trish," the backstage reporter began hesitantly. "Is it…" Her voice faltered and died away altogether when she saw the expression on the Women's Champion's features. Trish's face was white, the color of paper, and her arms hung limply at her sides. Her eyes, so firmly fixed on Ashley's a second ago, now stared dully off at a point in space.

The rookie Diva took a step forward. "It's true…isn't it?" It was a rhetorical question; more of an assertion than a query. Trish said nothing. Ashley slowly shook her head, a humorless smile touching her lips. "You're in love with him. _That's_ why you can't forgive Lita…and _that's_ why you won't forgive me."

Her words evoked no response from the Canadian beauty. Ashley took another step toward her; now only Mickie stood in her way. The brunette Diva glanced from one to the other, clearly caught between preventing another possible altercation and wanting to hear more. Gradually, though, curiosity won out and Mickie nodded wordlessly, moving backward and out of the way.

Ashley stared down at her mentor, her hands clenched into loose fists at her sides. "You're in love with a man that you're not supposed to love…just like me." Her voice was both accusing and pitying. Trish still wouldn't look her in the eye. Ashley fought the urge to drop to her knees; to take Trish by the shoulders and _shake_ her, just as the Women's Champion had done to her many times before. "How can you…how can you _sit_ there and judge _me_ when _you're_ just as much a hypocrite as I am?"

"Because it's not the same!" Trish finally located her voice, her green irises snapping up and locking onto her protégé's. Her gaze seemed uncertain, however, and the anger in her tone sounded forced. "Randy is—"

"—a bastard," Ashley finished for her. The Canadian beauty's eyes widened, her mouth moving as she struggled to find an appropriate retort. The Diva Search winner went on, her voice dull and exhausted. "I know, you keep telling me. _Everyone_ keeps telling me." Ashley closed her eyes for a moment. "Maybe he is…but he loves me…and I love him." Her lids drifted open, her blue-green irises fixing steadily on Trish's. "That's all that matters."

"At least—" The Women's Champion was floundering now, trying to maintain control and not yet realizing that she no longer had it; that it had been snatched away from her with six small words. "At least _I've _never cheated—"

"But you would…if you could," the rookie Diva interjected quietly. She bent down until her face was almost level with her mentor's. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that if you had the same chance with Matt…you wouldn't take it."

Trish looked away, her silence more than answering the question. Ashley remained where she was for a long moment, and then gradually straightened up to her full height. "That's what I thought." A laugh bubbled up out of her throat, but it was bitter, without triumph. "You know, I was so worried about coming here, thinking about what you were going to say to me, about what you must think of me…but now, I don't really care." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't give a _damn_ what you think about me—and as far as I'm concerned, you and everyone else can go _fuck_ yourselves."

Ashley stepped back, shaking her head slowly. "You think you're so great. You think that, just because you're the Women's Champion, you can tell me how to live my life just like you tell me what to do in the ring—but it doesn't _work_ like that. You think that we're friends…but we're _not_…because you don't respect me."

At this, Trish began to protest, and the Diva Search winner cut her off before she could even get a word out. "No, you don't." She spread her arms wide, as though inviting the Women's Champion to study the interior of the room, before indicating herself. "Look at what just happened: you don't even respect me enough to let me live my own life."

"It's for your own good—" Trish began, but her voice was weak, without conviction, and soon trailed off into silence.

Ashley backed away. She felt nothing; no pain, no anger, nothing but the dull echo of emotions. And all she knew was that she wanted nothing to do with the Women's Champion. "You know," the rookie Diva began, her tone just as flat and toneless as Trish's had been in the beginning. "I'll probably never be as good as you are in the ring. Six months from now, I'll probably still botch half my moves, still hit shitty clotheslines—and I doubt I'll ever be Women's Champion."

The Diva Search winner paused for an instant. "But at least I know who I am. At least…when I have the chance…I follow my heart—instead of locking it away and living a lie." Her throat grew tight with feeling, but her blue-green eyes remained bone-dry. "I'm not you, and I never will be…_but I'm glad that I'll never be you_."

As soon as her words broke the silence, Trish drew in a choked breath that could have almost been a sob. Ashley felt a faint flicker of pity flutter across her heart, but it was soon swallowed up by the deadening numbness. She started to add something else, but realized that there was nothing else to say, so the rookie Diva turned away instead, moving toward the door. Maria and Mickie quickly stepped aside to allow her to pass.

She had just reached for the door handle when she heard Trish's voice behind her. The Women's Champion sounded utterly defeated, her tone husky with the pressure of unshed tears. "Ash….I-I'm…_sorry_."

Ashley halted, but didn't turn around. She was outside the lamp's bright halo of light, her slender form swathed in shadows. The Diva Search winner bowed her head until her golden hair spilled down, covering her face. "Like you said, Trish—" she remarked, her voice sounding as dead as she now felt. "—it's a little too late for sorry."

Without another word, she pulled the door open, exiting out into the hall with the liquid smoothness of evaporating smoke, striding toward the elevators.

She never looked back.


	35. Chapter 35: Beautiful Nightmare

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I'm kind of nervous about this chapter; the events are something that I always intended on happening even when I was first brainstorming, but my biggest fear is that they don't come across on print the way they did in my head. This chapter was originally longer; I had less fight and more explanation, but as I was outlining, I realized there needed to be more fight and so I expanded it and pushed the explanation to the next chapter. I've always thought that I've been half-writing a horror story with this fic, and this is one of those chapters where I really believe that comes through. Without giving anything else anyway, because I've blathered on enough...enjoy! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **Wolfes Groupie, BigRedMachineUK, ravenserotonin, rockmyworldx3, Menaji, **and **MissMikkiMouse **for reviewing the last chapter! I love you all!

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Chapter 35: Beautiful Nightmare

Ashley planted her hands on her hips, watching silently as Candice made her way down to the ring. Just as she had threatened, the brunette Diva had somehow managed to secure a match against the Diva Search winner for tonight's broadcast in North Charleston. Ashley wasn't all that surprised; she suspected that Candice could be fairly..._persuasive_-especially while on her knees.

The Go Daddy spokesmodel sauntered slowly toward the squared circle, her sheer floor-length robe billowing out behind her, her manicured fingers clamped around that ridiculous star wand of hers like a club. Torrie trailed a few steps behind her cohort in crime, her countenance fixed in an expression of haughty disinterest.

Only two things distinguished this approach from the countless others the Wicked Witches of the Midwest had made on Monday Night Raw: the protective mask covering Candice's normally exquisitely featured face...and the intense hatred burning in both Diva's gazes. Neither one of them took their eyes off of the rookie Diva as they strolled toward the gleaming white expanse of canvas.

Ashley met their baleful glares without flinching, fighting the urge to glance back over her shoulder. Doing so would have been a fruitless exercise; she knew there was no one behind her. No one to shoot her an assuring look or give her a supporting pat on the shoulder.

No one to watch her back.

The Diva Search winner hadn't spoken to Trish since the night of their argument...but the Women's Champion's absence at ringside said more than any additional words ever could. For the first time in a long time, Ashley was alone out here-and somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that _this_, this..._abandonment_...was what her nemeses had wanted all along.

The exquisite irony of it, however, was that in spite of it all, in spite of Candice and Torrie's petty torments, in spite of her friends' desertion, the rookie Diva just couldn't bring herself to _care. _The blanket of numbness that had dropped down over her after that disastrous night on SmackDown had hardened over time, solidifying into a dense barrier that was as rigid and impenetrable as stone. She couldn't feel..._anything_...anymore, and every emotion felt like too much of an effort to summon forth. Everything, even the look of cool determination on her face as she watched Candice's trek to the ring...it was little more than a mask; a disguise she donned to hide how empty she was inside.

She could remember a time (it seemed like ages ago; had it really been less than a week?) when she had chastised Randy for his unwillingness to feel. _You're fucked-up. _Those had been her exact words. _You're fucked up...and so am I. _

But now, she no longer felt that way. Now, perhaps, she finally understood how the Legend Killer could choose such a path of existence.

Maybe Randy had had the right idea all along: it _was_ easier to function when you couldn't feel anything.

The harsh atonal clatter of the ring bell jarred the rookie Diva from her reverie, shifting her consciousness back to the present. Ashley blinked, her mental gears momentarily frozen in that instant of startled surprise. Somehow, while she was lost in thought, Candice had materialized in front of her, her dark eyes glittering with malice. Her usual sultriness was absent; for once, the brunette Diva actually looked as though she had come prepared for a fight.

Before Ashley could even lift her foot to take a step, Candice flew at her, peppering her with forearm shots, each blow snapping the Diva Search winner's head back. A shrill shriek of rage emanated from her throat, digging into Ashley's ear like the high-pitched whine of a gnat.

The rookie Diva was caught off-guard more than anything else; even in the midst of her fury, Candice couldn't summon up enough force to cause any actual damage. But Ashley was still half-trapped in her own self-pitying ruminations, so when Candice grabbed her wrist and swung her toward the ropes in an Irish whip, the Diva Search winner allowed herself to be swung, instead of digging in her heels and reversing the momentum like Trish had taught her.

_Like you said, Trish...it's a little too late for sorry_.

The rookie Diva hit the ropes...and promptly almost fell flat on her face as someone grabbed her ankle, knocking her off balance. Ashley quickly scrambled to her feet, whirling around, not at all surprised to see Torrie standing below her, her pretty face a portrait of unwitting innocence.

The Diva Search winner immediately lashed out with a wild kick, but the Boise Belle easily evaded it, backing up a few paces just out of reach, her mouth curling up in a vicious little smile. "What's the matter, _Ashley_?" she taunted, her tone just as venomous as her expression. "Still crying over your _precious, pathetic_ Matt Hardy?"

Ashley froze, her countenance slackening a little in shock, unable to believe that Torrie had just gone there. If the comment had been directed solely at her, she would have dismissed it-she was long past caring, and besides, Candice and Torrie's derogatory remarks paled in comparison to the accusatory repetition of her own thoughts.

But _this_ comment...it had also been directed at Matt...and Matt had always been different. Misfortune...it seemed to cling to him like static electricity, and there would always be something about him that would move Ashley; that would pierce through her to the core no matter how many protective barriers she surrounded herself with. And deep within herself, the rookie Diva felt the stone wall of insensitivity engulfing her crack just a little.

Any further thoughts, however, were driven from her mind as an elbow slammed down onto the back on her neck, knocking her to her knees. Candice grabbed two handfuls of Ashley's long golden tresses, yanking her up and throwing her face-down back onto the canvas. The Diva Search winner was able to bring her arms up at the last second out of pure reflex, saving her face from any potential damage.

Ignoring referee Jack Doan's admonishment to "watch the hair", the Go Daddy spokesmodel strode toward her rival, nailing the rookie Diva with a stiff kick. The toe of her boot caught Ashley in the abdomen, simultaneously flipping her over onto her back and knocking the wind out of her. Ashley's mouth moved, opening and closing like a fish as she struggled to draw oxygen back into her body.

As she lay there, helpless, unable to even inhale one single breath, Candice knelt over her, grabbing her by the hair again and hauling her up roughly to her knees. The brunette Diva shoved her face into Ashley's, tilting her head to the side as she studied the Diva Search winner. "Poor little Ashley," she remarked, her voice little more than a harsh spiteful whisper. "Can't even wrestle a match without your _friends_."

Ashley said nothing; only stared defiantly back at her nemesis. Candice leaned a little closer, until her face was almost touching the rookie Diva's. "How does it feel...to be all alone?" the Go Daddy spokesmodel murmured, unable to keep evident satisfaction from creeping into her voice. "Sucks...doesn't it?"

As soon as those words fell on her ears, Ashley heard a faint rumble at the back of her mind, as the invisible wall surrounding her gave way even more, allowing a trickle of emotions to seep through. The pain, the anguish, the _anger_...it was only a faint echo of her former personality, her former fire...but it was enough.

The Diva Search winner's blue-green irises narrowed, and with brutal swiftness, she jerked her head forward, her forehead connecting with Candice's protective mask. The brunette Diva immediately released her, staggering backward, clutching her face and squealing in stunned surprise.

A rush of dizziness washed over Ashley, but she forced herself to ignore it, to push it aside. She could feel the wall of numbness disintegrating around her, like a sand castle beneath the ocean's waves, burning away in the fire of her wrath. She pulled herself up to one knee, then to a standing position, reeling a little as she struggled to regain her equilibrium.

Candice furiously ripped off her face mask, throwing it onto the mat and actually jumping up and down on it like a small child throwing a tantrum. She would have been better off keeping it on; her broken nose was still swollen to twice its normal size, and tinged a dark mottled pink. The brunette Diva whirled around, her dark irises locking onto Ashley. Screaming wordlessly, she stormed toward her rival, jabbing one manicured talon in the direction of the rookie Diva.

"You fucking _bitch_!" Ashley _really_ hoped that the cameras had caught _that_ particular epithet. "This is all _your_ fault!" The Go Daddy spokesmodel halted less than a foot from her, and the Diva Search winner found herself wondering how she ever could have found Candice intimidating in the first place. The Diva standing in front of her was nothing but an annoying little drama queen; a showoff who couldn't bear not being the center of attention. She had destroyed Ashley's reputation out of little more than jealousy and spite...and as the rookie Diva realized this, she felt her outrage swell and expand.

Candice was still shrieking, unaware of the tempest of emotion building in front of her: "You should have learned your place-you should have just fucking _stayed down_-"

Ashley slapped her.

The blow sent Candice stumbling backward, swaying unsteadily, almost falling down onto her ass. The Diva Search winner advanced toward her, her movements slow but purposeful, finger-combing her blond locks back from her face as she spoke. "_My_ fault? This is _my_ fault? What about what _you_ did?"

All around her, the half-hearted cheers of the fans had faded to a murmur of intrigued confusion. Ashley didn't blame them. A knock-down-drag-out that was fast denigrating into a shouting match must have been the last thing this audience was expecting out of her and Candice. The rookie Diva went on, her blue-green eyes narrowing to small slits. "What about all the _shit_ you and your friends have put me through since the first day I arrived?"

At this, Candice swung wildly at her rival, but Ashley blocked it easily, catching the brunette Diva in the jaw with a forearm of her own, knocking her back even more. "You couldn't just leave me alone, could you? You could have just stayed out of my way, but _no_, you had to go and make it _personal_. You had to keep _pushing_ me and _pushing _me-"

The brunette Diva threw another punch, but the Diva Search winner blocked this one as well, nailing her nemesis with a second forearm. "Well, now _I'm _pushing back. How does it feel, _Candy_? Huh? How does it _feel_?" She punctuated the last word with a hard shove, pushing the other Diva into the corner. Candice hit the turnbuckle post shoulder-first, whimpering a little in pain.

The rookie Diva stared at her impassively. _The Undertaker is after me..._she thought to herself..._because of you, because of some stupid dare that didn't play out the way you planned. _

_ Maybe you didn't send him after me, but you're a link in the chain that binds me to him. Maybe you aren't responsible for Randy, for what happened between us...maybe we were always destined to find one another...but at the same time, none of us would be standing here right now if you hadn't shoved me into his life in the first place. _

Candice was crying by now, big fat tears rolling her cheeks, her nose running. "Please..." the Go Daddy spokesmodel whimpered. "_Please_..." Her high-pitched voice was piteous...but Ashley was beyond pity.

She was beyond anything...save for vengeance.

Grabbing Candice's chin between thumb and forefinger, Ashley shoved her face into the brunette Diva's. "Come on, Candice," she taunted. "Why aren't you smiling?" Her fingernails dug into Candice's skin, forcing the corners of her mouth up. "Why aren't you _happy_?" She didn't even recognize the sound of her own voice; it was as hard and frigid as ice, filled with a vicious amusement she hadn't even known herself to be capable of. "Isn't this what you _wanted_? Isn't this why you destroyed my _life_?"

The Diva Search winner leaned down a little more, her voice dropping to a contempt-filled whisper. "You took..._everything_...from me." She shook her head slowly. "I hate you." Her voice, barely audible, now rose to a shout. "_I hate you_!" Her fingers dug in even harder. "I'll-"

_-kill you_-

Before the words could leave her mouth, however, waves of black pulsed across her vision, undulating like ripples on a still pond. The roar of the outside world in her ears went still, replaced by a low dull ringing, and Ashley felt a sickening sensation of disembodiment, as though for an instant, she had been ripped from her own corporeal form.

The rookie Diva staggered back a step, trying to shake off the feeling of dizzying disorientation. As she did, Candice abruptly pulled her knees up to her chest, kicking Ashley in the gut with both feet.

Ashley fell to her knees, pressing both arms against her bruised abdomen. It hurt, but the pain was inconsequential compared to the terror rocketing through her body, to the impeding sense of doom bearing down on her. Something was about to happen. Something _bad. _And what had just happened...was only the beginning.

What followed it would be far worse.

She felt Candice grab a handful of her hair, yanking her head back painfully. Ashley blinked, staring dully up at her nemesis. The brunette Diva was little more than a silhouette against the blinding wash of bright lights, her full lips curving up in a smirk. "Ever the goody-two-shoes," the Go Daddy spokesmodel murmured sneeringly. She gestured at her damaged face with her free hand. "Compared to what I'm gonna do to you-_this_...is nothing."

Candice raised her fist over her head, holding it still for a moment before bringing it hurling down toward Ashley's unprotected face with brutal force. The Diva Search winner closed her eyes, steeling herself against the blow.

Just as Candice's fist was about to make contact, however, Ashley felt a fluttering sensation within her, like thousands of bird wings flapping at once-and roaring up from the back of her mind, the deep wicked rumble of a triumphant laugh...

And then, she felt nothing.

* * *

"...your winner, _Ashley Massaro_!"

Ashley opened her eyes, blinking stupidly against the glare of the overhead lights. She felt as though she had just awakened from a deep sleep; one in which there had been no dreams, only a deep blanketing darkness. Her limbs were infused with a numb tingling sensation, as though her entire body had somehow fallen asleep.

The rookie Diva felt light pressure on her wrist, and looked over to see Jack Doan taking hold of her arm, raising it up in victory, as though to confirm those last four words.

But that didn't make any sense. The last thing she remembered was seeing Candice's fist speeding toward her face; Ashley didn't understand how she could have even dodged the blow in time, let alone won the match. More than that...why couldn't she remember? Everything between the punch and this moment seemed to have been swallowed up by a blank, black hole, and no matter how hard she tried, the Diva Search winner couldn't dredge up even the smallest image or sound from that inky void.

It was as though the lights had remained on, but she, for whatever reason, hadn't been home-

Ashley's mental gears screeched to a halt, all comprehension ceasing as she took in her surroundings for the first time.

The ring was covered with blood.

Ashley's wide blue-green irises swept over the canvas, which she was certain had been pristine when she had first stepped inside. Blood had pooled in some places; smudged in others. Near the edge of the mat, a pair of smeared blood handprints stood out in sharp relief...as though whoever had left them had been dragged forcibly back toward the center of the ring.

As the rookie Diva mutely took in this evidence of carnage, a flicker of movement outside the ring caught her eye. She looked up to see Candice limping toward the ramp, leaning heavily on the arm of an additional referee for support. The brunette Diva looked as though she had been through a war. Her nose had clearly been re-broken; it looked more like a piece of smashed fruit in the center of her face, leaking blood down over her chin. It was hard to tell for certain, but it looked as though her lip had been split as well.

Behind her, Torrie pressed one hand to her head, the other held gingerly to the small of her back. She was much less the worse for wear than Candice, but there were streaks of red in her golden curls, and the skin near her eye and jaw was already starting to bruise.

As though she could sense the Diva Search winner's eyes on her, Candice glanced up. Her dark irises instantly widened in fright and she began to wail, wordless screams of pure terror that seemed to drown out everything else. Clutching the referee's arm, the Go Daddy spokesmodel hid behind him, peering over his shoulder warily like a child peeping around the imposing figure of a parent. Torrie turned as well, and while she didn't break down as completely as Candice had, her complexion turned the lifeless chalky color of ash when she saw Ashley staring at her.

_What HAPPENED?_...Ashley wanted to scream, but she couldn't; the words had dried up in her mouth. Her head was spinning, her heart was pounding...but in the midst of her internal chaos, she could sense a dreadful new possibility taking shape in her mind.

It was monstrous, it was beyond all comprehension...but at the same time-

Two new figures raced down the ramp, and Ashley felt an involuntary surge of relief leap up inside of her when she saw that it was Trish, followed closely behind by Mickie. However, as they neared the ring, the rookie Diva saw that their expressions were not those of concern or congratulation, but instead a kind of wary horror.

The Women's Champion and her biggest fan halted at the bottom of the ramp. Mickie started to approach the squared circle once again, but Trish shot her arm out, preventing her. Neither one of them took their eyes off of Ashley.

The Diva Search winner couldn't get over the way they were staring at her, as though she was some kind of vicious predator loose in the ring. Looking around cautiously, she realized with a sense of dawning horror that it wasn't just Trish and Mickie-_everyone_ was looking at her like that. From Lillian Garcia to the camera guys to Jack Doan to the _fans_...it was as though she'd inexplicably turned into a werewolf and then back again.

Ashley took a step toward her tag team partners, and the two Divas quickly took a step back, keeping the same amount between her and them. The rookie Diva held out her arms beseechingly...and then froze, as she saw her own hands for the first time.

Her knuckles were bruised and bloodied, her palms red; there was even dried blood under her fingernails. Ashley's hands started to tremble and her eyes filled with involuntary tears, but that merely obscured the unwanted tableau; didn't make it any less visible...or any less _real._

Her whole body shaking now, the Diva Search winner fell to her knees as the horrible realization crashed over her: _she _was the cause of all this devastation. She had beaten Candice's face practically to a pulp, had cowed both her and Torrie into frightened submission...and she couldn't remember _any_ of it.

And somehow, _that_ was even more terrifying than knowing she was the one responsible.

"What happened?" Ashley's voice quavered with emotion, little more than a tearful whisper. "What _happened_? What did I _do_..."

Her voice trailed off into silence as a new one spoke from the back of her mind, completely alien...and yet, at the same time, so _familiar_. It uttered only two words:

_They paid..._

Tilting her face up toward the web of lights above her, Ashley Massaro began to scream.


	36. Chapter 36: Collateral Damage

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I apologize; the semester started and I have been mad busy with my thesis and work and all sorts of miscellany. I have to say, this isn't one of my favorite chapters, but hopefully, you all will like it-because that's what's important. Enjoy! Peace!**

**Thank you to **Souless666, rockmyworldx3, Priceless-LegacyGirl, beautifultragedyxxx, Wolfes Groupie, SLSheartsRKO, Aliel Yevrah, BigRedMachineUK, rory 21, **and **MissMikkiMouse **for all your AWESOME reviews! I love you ALL!

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Chapter 36: Collateral Damage

_The only person you have to blame is yourself..._

For once in her miserable life, Candice Michelle had actually gotten it right.

The brunette Diva's smug remark kept replaying over and over again in Ashley's mind, like a length of film looped back onto itself, as she staggered through gorilla. The tiny backstage area, cramped even under normal circumstances, seemed to have shrunk to nearly claustrophobic proportions, with what felt like the entire population of China crammed within its confines. The rookie Diva didn't have to worry about navigating through the crush of people, however; most of them parted to let her pass, backing away from her as though she was somehow infectious and even the slightest contact would transmit her contagion to them.

In truth, Ashley didn't much blame them; after what she had seen out in the ring: the bloodstained canvas, the dried blood under her fingernails, the identical expressions of wary horror on everyone's face...she was beginning to agree with them.

The Diva Search winner gradually stumbled out of gorilla into the back corridors of the arena, but her feelings of disorientation, of dislocation, refused to dissipate. The network of hallways before her had taken on the dizzying complexity of a labyrinth, and each corridor seemed to pitch back and forth, like a rickety bridge swaying in the wind.

Ashley grabbed onto the wall for support, staring down at her booted feet, watching as each one made contact with the concrete floor. Her vision swam with tears, but the rookie Diva forced herself to absorb every detail-the scuffs and scratches on the leather surface, the way the laces were entwined through the eyelets-hoping that with each deliberate footfall, the frantic thud of her heartbeat would eventually slow.

It didn't work; her pulse continued to pound in her ears, and with every step, her insides gave a sickening little lurch, propelling hot sour bile up the back of her throat. Ashley tried to swallow it back down, but the nausea soon proved to be too much. Slumping against a corner of the wall, she vomited, splashing the contents of her stomach onto the floor and narrowly missing splattering her clothes in the process.

Reeling a little, Ashley took a few unsteady paces away from the steaming mess, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed her total lack of bodily control. Thankfully, no one had; the area in front of her led to a dead end, and the stretches of hallway on either side were deserted.

It was into this dead end that the Diva Search winner moved, wobbling shakily on rubbery legs. She only made it a few steps before these, too, gave out, and she collapsed, legs splaying out on either side of her, the cement floor tearing her fishnets and scraping her knees. Ashley sat unsteadily back on her haunches, staring sightlessly ahead, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

_I'm sick..._the rookie Diva told herself dully. _I'm running a temperature, and all this...whatever this is...it's just a hallucination; just a weird-ass fever-dream... _But when Ashley tentatively touched her forehead, she found it cool, almost cold, to the touch, her skin coated with a veneer of oily perspiration.

The Diva Search winner wiped it away with some disgust, rubbing her hand roughly on her short plaid skirt, trying to eradicate the slick sensation of her own sweat. Her rib cage felt like it was constricting, as though someone had yanked the laces on her corset top a little too tight, and Ashley was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

Puzzle pieces were coming together in her mind, their final image becoming more and more clear, and the rookie Diva found herself desperately wishing that she could jumble the pieces up and shove them back into the box...because she did not want to see that ultimate picture finally solidify into total clarity. She had a feeling, a wild irrational feeling, that if she gazed upon that final image, with all its hard naked truth, her sense of sanity would shatter and she would go completely insane.

_Maybe it's already happened..._Ashley thought with a kind of panicked denial. _Maybe I'm already insane. That's the only explanation, isn't it? That I'm crazy? That's the only thing that makes sense...because if I'm not crazy, that means that something's happening to me..._

_ Something impossible..._

The Diva Search winner tried to giggle, but the laughter died in her throat, its sound emerging as little more than a whimper as the evening's events played through her mind once again, flitting across her brain in a series of flickering stills.

The deep resonate chuckle that had roared up from the back of her subconscious, the sound of it almost demonic...

The blanketing mantle of darkness that followed...

And that _voice_, little more than a whisper, but one that was most assuredly _not _her own...

_They paid..._

Ashley's face abruptly crumpled, and she let out a wail, a low keening sound full of pain and fear. She felt something snap inside her, as though some vital pipeline had just been severed, and the rookie Diva tumbled face-first onto the floor, her strength leaving her. She didn't exactly black out, but she lost enough of her awareness for her mind to settle into a kind of semi-conscious haze.

Ashley wasn't sure how long she actually lay there, but the next thing she knew, someone was holding her shoulders, pulling her gently up into a sitting position. The Diva Search winner could hear her name being uttered, but it sounded far away and echoic, as though the other person was at the other end of a tunnel.

_Ashley? Are you all right? Come on, hon, sit up..._

With some effort, Ashley lifted her head, expecting to see Maria or Mickie or possibly even Trish...and felt a bolt of genuine surprise slam into her as she found herself staring into the concerned pale blue eyes of Stephanie McMahon.

The rookie Diva struggled a little, embarrassment already threading through her panic. "I didn't mean to-" she blurted out before she could stop herself, inwardly cringing at how much of a hot mess she sounded like at this moment. "I don't know..._what_ happened out there." The words were pouring out of her; there was no point in even attempting to stop their flow. "But it wasn't _me_; I _swear_-"

"I know." Stephanie interjected quietly. "It was _him_."

At this unexpected remark, Ashley's pleas died away into silence, and she stared at the Billion Dollar Princess with a sort of stunned surprise. For the first time, she realized that Stephanie's expression held none of the suspicion or alarm she'd been glimpsing in everyone else's. Instead, the former SmackDown GM gazed back at her calmly with a mixture of concern, sympathy...and oddly enough, _understanding._

As though, in some way, she knew precisely what the Diva Search winner was going through.

Stephanie went on. "He spoke to you, didn't he? Out in the ring?" The Billion Dollar Princess hesitated, the next syllables falling from of her mouth carefully, as though she was speaking in a foreign language. "'They...paid.'...Isn't that what he said?"

Ashley's mouth dropped open, and she felt something inside her plummet toward the floor. "How did you-" she began, her voice a startled croak.

The former SmackDown GM's mouth curved up in a half-smile, one that was both rueful and heartbreakingly sad, and her gaze went distant for an instant or two. Her fingers dug a little bit deeper into Ashley's shoulders, and her voice, when she did speak, was just as low and choked as the Diva Search winner's: "_Because I heard him, too."

* * *

_

The General Manager's office was empty, and a quick twist of the lock ensured that neither of them would be disturbed. A metal pitcher of ice water sat on the corner of the desk; without speaking, Stephanie picked it up and poured a glass of the cool liquid, handing it to the rookie Diva.

Ashley accepted the glass gratefully, mumbling a barely audible "Thank you", but didn't drink. After what had happened out in the hallway, she was afraid that _any_ liquid, no matter how innocuous, would hit her insides like a shot of battery acid…and the last thing she wanted to do at this point was explain to Eric Bischoff why she had puked all over his rug. Instead, she held the glass protectively behind her palms like a talisman, its chilled surface a soothing balm, taking a seat on one of the room's black leather sofas.

The Billion Dollar Princess poured a glass for herself, and then leaned back against the edge of the desk, her pale blue eyes fixed to the monitor. Together, the two women silently watched the tape of Ashley's bout against Candice, which had been delivered from the production truck at the request of the former SmackDown GM.

The Diva Search winner felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. The small digitized figure on the screen was clearly her—piercings, black streaks, torn fishnets…but at the same time, it was like looking at a stranger. This other Ashley…the way she _moved_…the way she _fought—_battering Candice with hard rights, breaking her nose, splitting her lip…lifting the brunette Diva up over her head with ease, even though normally, she barely possessed enough upper body strength to execute a suplex…

Something had been out there with her during the match. Some_thing_ had been walking around in her skin, wearing her face, screaming in her voice—but it hadn't been _her_.

And if not her…then _what_?

On-screen, Candice crawled on her belly toward the ropes, sobbing, her face covered with blood, tears, and snot. As the _other_ Ashley grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back toward the center like a caveman, the rookie Diva finally had to look away, her stomach wrenching painfully. "Turn it off," she managed to say, her tone lifeless and barely controlled. "Turn it off—I don't want to watch any more."

Stephanie shot her a sidelong glance, but wordlessly obliged, picking up the remote and snapping the monitor off. The screen went black, and a deafening silence filled the room. Seconds crept by, lengthening out into minutes, and eventually, the Diva Search winner was the one to break the quiet, clearing her throat and trying to force some measure of calm back into her voice. "What's—" Ashley's voice shook uncontrollably, and she had to pause for a few moments before she was able to go on. "What's…_happening_…to me?"

The Billion Dollar Princess didn't answer at first; merely raised her glass to her lips and drank her water. From the way she was gulping it down, it was clear that she wished it was something stronger. Stephanie drained the glass with a low sigh, slamming it back down onto the desk. "Isn't it obvious?" She retorted, but there was no sarcasm in her tone; only a kind of regretful bitterness. Her blue eyes bore into Ashley's. "The Undertaker's inside your head."

Just hearing it spoken out loud, hearing her own insane notions corroborated by someone else in such a matter-of-fact tone of voice, sent a surge of relief racing through Ashley's body that was so acute she almost wept.

The Diva Search winner swallowed hard, trying to force back the emotion climbing up her throat. "How—" she began, and then stopped. _How did it happen?..._had been her intended question, but before the sentence could even emerge fully from her lips, the events of last Tuesday came flooding back to her.

The overhead lights brightening and dimming. The wall of darkness advancing toward her. Randy's frantic cries, telling her to _get out of there_, to _run_.

The Deadman's eyes, the iciness of his fingers, the inundation of horrors that accompanied his touch.

And ever since then, the unshakably eerie feeling that no matter how much she isolated herself, _she wasn't alone_.

Another span of silence stretched out between the two women. Gradually, the rookie Diva cleared her throat, her voice soft and tentative. "What…what do I do now?"

"_Do_?" The former SmackDown GM stared at her incredulously, as though Ashley had just sprouted wings and flown around the room. A harsh bark of laughter bubbled up from Stephanie's chest, the sound of it just as bitter as her voice. "You can't _do_ anything! This isn't a horror movie; you can't just wave a crucifix around and say 'The power of Christ compels you'!"

The Billion Dollar Princess pushed her slender body away from the desk, pacing across the room as she continued. "Once the Deadman's in your head, he's in there for _good_, and until he decides to set you free, you're just a meat puppet that he can control any time he wants!" Stephanie stopped, drawing in a deep shuddering breath and pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She squeezed her lids closed for a second, and Ashley thought she caught the faint glitter of tears in the former SmackDown GM's eyes.

A few moments passed before Stephanie went on, and when she spoke, the rookie Diva could hear the huskiness of unshed tears in her voice. "It's been six and a half _years_…" the Billion Dollar Princess whispered. In that instant, she looked years younger, like a woman barely out of her teens. "…and yet…he still won't let me go."

Stephanie sucked in another deep breath, almost a sob, and Ashley felt the urge to rise from her seat and give her a hug. She didn't, though; even in this moment of shared solidarity, Stephanie was still her boss. Besides, she sensed that the former SmackDown GM was on the verge of telling her something.

Something, quite possibly, she had never told anyone.

As though she had been reading the Diva Search winner's mind, Stephanie looked back toward her, her brief emotional spurt once more tamped down under some semblance of control. "How much do you know about the Ministry of Darkness?"

The question was so unexpected that for a few moments, Ashley was unable to formulate a response. "Only what I remember watching on television," the rookie Diva eventually replied, setting her water down on the ground.

A ghost of a smile touched the corners of Stephanie's mouth, and then swiftly disappeared. "For the record: most of it was crap, just a bunch of heels running around in black robes pretending to be Satanists." The Billion Dollar Princess hesitated. "Except for _him_." She shivered, and Ashley felt a mutual one grip her own body. "With _him_…it was always real…and I don't think any of us realized that—until it was too late." Another pause. "Until he kidnapped me."

Ashley felt her slim frame lock up. Her hand shot out, latching onto the arms of the sofa, gripping until her knuckles flushed white. Stephanie went on. "I've never really been able to remember what happened to me—other than being tied to that giant Undertaker symbol and Stone Cold saving me—and whether it's because of him or because of me, I'm still not sure." She let out another hard grating laugh. "I used to think, after Austin rescued me, that I was free—it wasn't until later that I realized I was _never_ free; that I was still trapped in that boiler room, chained to the goddamn _furnace_!"

The former SmackDown GM whirled around suddenly, slamming her fist against the wall. Ashley jumped; Stephanie didn't even seem to notice. She was lost in memory, her voice growing faraway as she continued. "Things started happening to me—things I could never explain. I started losing things—losing time, doing things that I would normally never do and having no memory of them. And the whole time…I could hear his voice in my head…taunting me…laughing at me…"

The Billion Dollar Princess pressed both palms against the wall, gazing down at the floor. "I made…_a lot _of bad decisions during that time. I went a little wild, turned into the world's biggest bitch, married a man that I shouldn't have—and the whole time, I was just trying to keep myself from losing my mind." She slowly shook her head. "It was a long time, a couple years, before I finally got to a place mentally where I could deal with it….and even then, even _now_…"

Stephanie looked up, staring dully ahead at the wall in front of her. "Sometimes, when I go to sleep at night…_I can still hear him whispering to me_."

"Why me?" Ashley heard herself say. The rookie Diva sat bolt upright, her spine completely rigid. She managed to relinquish her death grip on the sofa's arm, returning her hands to her lap. "Why is this happening to me?"

Stephanie gradually looked over at her, as though she had completely forgotten that the Diva Search winner was even here. The bitter smile was once more on her lips. "I think you already know the answer to that question." The former SmackDown GM straightened up, moving back toward Ashley. "To scare you, mostly…you _and_ Randy. That's what the Deadman's always been about: _fear_. By getting inside your head, he's trying to scare you into deserting Randy…and to scare the Legend Killer into losing his focus."

Stephanie shook her head again. "The thing about 'Taker…he only sees the world in black and white. There are no gray areas with him; either you're his enemy or you aren't. And right now—impossible as it may seem—_you're_ his enemy…all because you had the misfortune to fall in love with Randy Orton."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ashley's lips barely moved; her face felt like it was frozen in place.

Sympathy flashed across Stephanie's delicate features, and she abruptly knelt down, taking Ashley's hands in both of hers. "Because you deserve to know exactly what kind of situation you've become involved in." she replied, gently but earnestly. The Billion Dollar Princess averted her eyes for a moment. "Undertaker…he's not human. At least, I don't _think_ he is. Even when he was the Bad Ass, he still wasn't _all_ human, and when he was…_buried alive_…that part of him…went away."

Stephanie swallowed hard. "It makes sense—he couldn't have survived any other way." Her pale blue eyes were fixed on Ashley's. "But because of that…he doesn't have a conscience. He doesn't _feel _things like we do—I doubt he feels anything at all. Right now, the only thing that motivates him, the only thing he _cares about_…is destroying Randy Orton—and if that means destroying you in the process, then he will do it without even blinking."

The former SmackDown GM looked away again; her smile was almost sad. "I was kidnapped because the Deadman had an issue with my father; you're being terrorized because you got involved with the Legend Killer." Her hands tightened around Ashley's. "You and I—we're just…collateral damage…to him. We're nothing more than the accidental casualties of war. And it's nothing personal; it's just…we were there."

The rookie Diva didn't answer for several long seconds. She flicked her gaze down toward her lap, inhaling a long shaky breath. Her lips moved, spitting out the one question she never even would have hinted at with Trish: "What should I do?"

Stephanie stared hard into her eyes, and in that instant, all the barriers between them were stripped away; they were no longer employee and boss, but two equals. "By now, everyone's probably been telling you to run as fast and as far away from Randy Orton as you possibly can." It wasn't really a question, but nevertheless, Ashley answered it with a nod. The Billion Dollar Princess went on. "I'm the one who's going to tell you that _it won't do any good_. Running away won't change anything. With _or _without you, Randy's lost…because no matter how hard he tries, you're the one person that he can't push away." The smile reappeared, and for the first time, there was nothing sad or bitter about it. "He _loves _you…just like you love him."

The silence that followed seemed to stretch out into eternity. Eventually, Ashley gently extricated her hands from Stephanie's grip, rising to her feet. Her dizziness was gone; the world no longer swam around her like some crazy carnival ride. She glanced down at the former SmackDown GM. "Thanks," she murmured. She started to add something else, but found that she couldn't; what could she possibly say after all that? Instead, she maneuvered around the Billion Dollar Princess, heading for the door and exiting out into the hall.

As soon as the tumbler clicked softly back into place, Stephanie let her breath out in a long sigh, bowing her head. "God help you," the younger McMahon whispered. She folded her hands together, pressing them to her lips as though in prayer—even though it had been years since she had prayed.

"God help you both."

* * *

Ashley walked slowly down the empty corridor. Her gait had steadied, but she felt weak, utterly drained of energy. The Diva Search winner trailed one hand along the textured cinderblock surface of the wall, her mind replaying her conversation with Stephanie McMahon.

_You deserve to know exactly what kind of situation you've become involved in…_

_ Undertaker…he doesn't have a conscience…I doubt he feels anything at all…_

_ The only thing he cares about is destroying Randy Orton…and if that means destroying you in the process…then he will do it without even blinking…_

Ashley closed her eyes, the last of Stephanie's words returning to her.

_With or without you…Randy's lost…because you're the one person he can't push away…_

The rookie Diva stopped, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She could hear her common sense, clamoring in the back of her mind, urging her to start running and not stop until she was far, far away. But Ashley remained rooted where she was, as unable to move as she was to forget about Randy Orton.

_If I stay, he'll always have a weakness…_the Diva Search winner thought to herself. _But without me…he'll fall to pieces. He'll shatter like glass—and I won't put him through that. I'm so terrified right now, over what's happened, over what's going to happen if I stay…but I'm even more scared of what'll happen to him, to us, if I leave…_

Ashley's head shot up, her blue-green eyes narrowed to small slits, her beautiful features fixed in a countenance of defiance. "I won't give him up." Her voice was low and tightly controlled. "Do you hear me?"

The hallway was deserted…but the Diva Search winner knew better than to believe that she was alone. "I _love_ him—maybe you can't understand that, but it's the truth." She shook her head. "I don't _care_ what you do to me—_I won't give him up_."

Ashley stopped, almost expecting a response, but of course there was none. Shooting another fierce glance around, the rookie Diva balled her hands into fists, making her way in the direction of the women's locker room with considerably more confidence and determination than she'd shown less than an hour ago.

For several long seconds, there was nothing…then, out of the stillness, a voice emerged. It was faint and dry, as though the walls themselves were exhaling.

_So be it…little girl…_


	37. Chapter 37: Lost Without You

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Think of this as a belated X-mas present. I swear, though, me and vocabulary were not friends during the composition of this chapter. I spent hours staring at the screen, screaming: "I know what I want to say; why can't I SAY it?" But we all know how THAT goes, lol. By the way, the end of this chapter came to me while I was halfway through; I just scribbled some notes down quick and banged it out, so hopefully, y'all will like it, along with the rest of the chapter. Am I babbling yet? I don't mean to; it's just that it's very late over here and my brain is officially fried. So, on that note, ENJOY! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **Aliel Yevrah, SLSheartsRKO, rockmyworldx3, DiivaLover, Animal-Viper-Cena Fan, beautifultragedyxxx, BigRedMachineUK, Menaji, **and **MissMikkiMouse **for reviewing the last chapter! Thank you so much, and you know that I love you ALL! A lot! *hugs*

* * *

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Chapter 37: Lost Without You

_**You look lost, boy...**_

Randy ran both hands through his short spiky hair, the gleeful drawl of the Undertaker reverberating in his skull as he struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The Legend Killer wasn't exactly lost, per se; he had just ceased to pay attention to his surroundings, and now everything was blurring together, losing its distinguishing features, stretching out into one long unending corridor.

He felt like a rat trapped in a maze; bumping blindly into walls while some faceless scientist observed him from afar, watching his every movement with a cold and clinical eye...one who didn't hesitate to place any kind of obstacle in his test subject's path. Like tonight, for example; the eerie events that had been plaguing him for the past several hours...

The hands of the clock, spinning out of control...

The blood streaming down his father's face-there one moment and gone the next...

Their rental car, speeding out of the parking lot with no one behind the wheel...and the slack look of dull passivity on backstage reporter Josh Matthew's features as his eyes rolled back into his head, the toneless voice emerging from his lips most assuredly _not_ his own...

_**You really think that you can escape me, boy?...You're in the fast lane now...on the HIGHWAY TO HELL!...**_

Randy halted, swaying unsteadily, his sense of balance ebbing away with each passing second. He could no longer feel anything below the knee; it was as though his feet had lost their substance, along with their ability to support him.

With trembling fingers, the third-generation Superstar reached out, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. The textured surface of the cinderblock felt cool beneath his fingertips-but the sensation gave him no comfort. If anything, it was nothing more than a cruel wake-up call; a reminder that he was still mired in reality.

And if he was still here...then that meant...the nightmare would continue.

Randy tilted his face up toward the ceiling, the sickly brilliance of the fluorescent bulbs washing over him like sunshine. The Legend Killer blinked stupidly in the light, wondering vaguely how he had ended up here; how he had been reduced from the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in history to a scared little boy, quivering and gibbering in the corner.

How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

Randy wasn't stupid; he had never harbored any delusions about what doing battle with the Deadman would entail. In the back of his mind, perhaps even before Wrestlemania 21, he had always known that it would come down to this, that he and 'Taker would reach a point where there was no turning back; where victory would be impossible without something being irretrievably lost in exchange.

It was a steep price...but one which the Legend Killer had always been willing to pay, because a win over the Deadman in his own yard, in his own _playground_, meant eternal glory. He would rule the SmackDown roster, his name would be etched in the history books, and he would no longer be known as _Legend Killer_, but simply _Legend_.

Those dreams, those golden possibilities...they had persisted even after his disastrous loss at Wrestlemania. During the four long months he had been out with a shoulder injury, they had been his constant companion; the only thing that had sustained him during that dark time. And when the Draft Lottery had rolled around and he had been shuffled over to SmackDown, his first act had been to RKO the Undertaker, to remind the Phenom that the business they had begun on the grandest stage of them all was far from over...

Randy had always told himself that he was different; that he would succeed where so many other Superstars had failed because unlike them, _he_ had nothing left to lose. No girlfriend, no friends-the only people that seemed to tolerate his company anymore were his father and the Animal. The Undertaker always boasted about taking souls, but Randy wasn't even sure he possessed one of those, because no matter how despicable or vicious his actions were nowadays, he couldn't feel the slightest flicker of remorse or conscience.

In some ways, he was always destined to go the distance with the Deadman..because inside, he was dead already.

The Legend Killer had anticipated this, _planned_ for this, as though his feud with the Phenom was nothing more than a neatly ordered math equation on a chalkboard. He had spent hours, days, _weeks, _conditioning himself for the physical warfare, steeling himself against the psychological...

And then, the unexpected had occurred. Something he had never counted on; a variable he had never factored into his original calculations...

_I'm Ashley, by the way..._

Randy groaned quietly in the back of his throat, the sound of it almost like a sob. Covering his face with his hands, he turned away from the light, shrinking from it like a vampire recoiling from sunlight. Tears climbed up his throat and it took everything he had not to relinquish himself to them; to swallow them back down as though nothing was wrong.

His heart had died a long time ago; he was fairly certain of that fact. What other reason was there for why he was such a bastard; for why he felt no other sensation except emptiness and cold?

But then, one warm August afternoon in Washington D.C., he had strolled out into the parking garage...and felt the warm softness of lips pressed against his. It hadn't been the kiss that had surprised him so much as the frantic pounding in his ears-a sound which he gradually recognized, with some astonishment, as that of his own heartbeat.

It was as though it had known, even before he had, that Ashley Massaro was different; that she was the one capable of bringing him back to life.

She had made him feel. Somehow, the Diva Search winner had broken through the layers of insensitivity surrounding him, reminding him that he was still alive, that he still had a _soul_, when even _he _was starting to believe otherwise. He was in love with her; so in love that it was almost too much to bear...but at what cost?

What cost...when now he couldn't even protect her from his own demons?

Randy had always believed (foolishly, he now understood) that when you loved someone; really, truly _loved_ them, you would be able to do whatever was necessary to protect them-even if it meant pushing them away, even if it meant making them _hate_ you.

Instead, he'd realized only too late that love was nothing more than one big Catch-22; that the same overwhelming emotion that would drive him to push the rookie Diva away would also keep him from letting her go.

And now...now it was too late. Now they were both lost; trapped like flies in an enormous web, and the events that had befallen them-the attack on Ashley, the strange occurrences this evening...well, they were the first faint vibrations, the first indicators that the spider was approaching.

And the spider...was hungry.

Guilt ripped through Randy's insides, the sensation so acute that the third-generation Superstar almost doubled over. The Legend Killer grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against the pain. These pangs of conscience...they seemed to be all he felt anymore-along with uncertainty, apprehension, _fear_. His heart, formerly an empty vessel, was now filled to the brim with emotions that could neither be eradicated or ignored. And with each new feeling, each dawning sentiment, Randy could feel himself weakening; could feel the protective shield he had built around himself evaporating, leaving him naked and vulnerable.

It was this weakness that terrified him more than anything; more than any of the Phenom's mind games, more even than the match that awaited him in twelve days. If he was weak, if he possessed even the slightest doubt about his own abilities, then the Undertaker would drag them both down into the darkness.

And then...what would happen to Ashley?

All of the misfortune that had befallen the Diva Search winner...it was _his_ fault. He had treated her like shit, destroyed her relationship with a man far better than him, and pulled her right into the crossfire of a war-all because he had been too much of a chickenshit to do the right thing and _let her go_. He had dragged her into this mess-and now he didn't even have the guts to tell her the truth: that he was a fraud, a _failure_; that he wasn't capable of saving _anyone_...least of all himself.

The Legend Killer stiffened as Ashley's voice drifted across his consciousness yet again, her tone faintly accusing:

_I don't understand how you can choose this...emptiness..._

He hadn't known why then, but he did now; knew with the sort of painful comprehension that comes too late to be of any use...the emptiness was the only thing that could have saved them both.

Someone bumped into him, almost hard enough to knock him over, jarring the third-generation Superstar from his self-pitying reverie. Randy spun around, his lean frame tensing almost immediately as his blue eyes locked onto Matt Hardy's hate-filled dark ones.

Ever since last week, the elder Hardy brother had gone out of his way to make the Legend Killer's life miserable. The majority of it was inconsequential-wordless glares, verbal barbs, the occasional shove-and so far, Randy had tolerated it without comment, without _complaint_.

Partly because he knew Matt's hostility toward him was justified...but mostly because he _just didn't care_.

The elder Hardy brother tilted his chin up a little as he eyed the former World Heavyweight Champion, a derisive smirk touching the corners of his mouth. "What's the matter, Randy?" he taunted. "You don't look so good. In fact..."

Matt moved closer, lowering his voice to a volume only the two of them could hear: "...you look like _hell_." the SmackDown Superstar finished.

If this particular conversation had been taking place a few months ago, Randy would have slapped Matt for such a display of insolence. But instead, the Legend Killer merely stared dumbly back at the elder Hardy brother, unable to react, unable to _speak_, his azure irises as flat and broken as shattered glass.

Apparently, this response-or rather, lack thereof-was not what Matt had hoped to see, because the elder Hardy brother's sneer abruptly vanished and he shoved his face into Randy's, his voice dripping with loathing. "You pathetic sack of _shit_-"

Normally, Matt's insults rolled right off the Legend Killer, like water coming into contact with water. But for some reason, as the words drifted from Matt's lips into the air between them, the third-generation Superstar felt a flame of indignation flicker to life within him, burning brighter with each passing second.

It wasn't what the elder Hardy brother had said-Randy had heard and absorbed far worse. No...it was the fact that Matt was choosing to channel all of his anger, all of his raw emotion, into childish acts of petty animosity toward the Legend Killer...instead of focusing on the one person who was truly a victim in this entire situation; the rookie Diva who the elder Hardy brother was clearly still crazy about, despite everything that had happened.

_Ashley's nothing like Lita_...Randy found himself thinking. _She never wanted to hurt you-she'd still be with you if it wasn't for me..._

_ Right now...the Deadman's after her...because of me. She's alone, she's terrified...and if you loved her as much as you claim to, you'd be with her right now instead of in my face. If you felt ANYTHING at all for her...you'd be trying to protect her...instead of punishing me..._

_ That's what I would do...because if anything ever happened to her...I'd never forgive myself..._

_**Remember, Randy...as long as I can get to her...I can get to you...**_

The Legend Killer flinched as the Undertaker's voice thundered in his head, the sound of it almost triumphant. His legs involuntarily buckled beneath him, and he locked his knees in place, lest he collapse in a heap on the floor. He swallowed hard, trying to force back down the scream that was climbing up his throat. He could sense a sparkling blackness hovering at the edges of his vision, causing things to swim in and out of focus, and he remembered thinking dimly that he would be all right if everything would just stop spinning; _that he would be all right if everything would just stop spinning-_

"Randy?"

For the third-generation Superstar, the tentative utterance of his name was the mental equivalent of a bucket of cold water. It slammed into him, clearing his head, forcing himself back into total awareness. Across from him, he could see that Matt had been similarly affected; the anger had drained from his expression, leaving behind an unreadable amalgamation of emotions.

Both men turned, almost in perfect unison, and Randy felt something inside him lurch sickeningly when he saw Ashley standing only a few feet away. The Diva Search winner looked dazed, and was holding onto the edge of an adjacent equipment crate for support, her knuckles actually flushing white with the effort. She looked smaller than usual; her shoulders were hunched and her clothes seemed to hang on her already-petite frame. Her skin was drawn tight against the bones of her face, throwing her beautiful features into sharp relief; making her look gaunt and haggard.

It was the look in her eyes, however, that sent Randy's heart hurtling up into his throat. Ashley's blue-green irises were calm, but it was the dulling glaze of shock, rather than the clear lucidity of true serenity...and in their depths, the Legend Killer could still glimpse the unmistakable glitter of fear.

Fear...and panic.

The former World Heavyweight Champion pushed past Matt, the elder Hardy brother already all but forgotten. He moved toward the rookie Diva hesitantly, on legs that threatened to give way beneath him, afraid that she would melt away into nothing like a mirage...or worse, that the Undertaker would suddenly materialize behind her, clamp his gloved hand over her mouth and yank her back into the darkness.

Randy slowly licked his lips; his tongue felt as dry as sandpaper. "Ash?" he whispered. His voice sounded alien in his own eyes; unsteady, hoarse, and thick with unshed tears. "What're you doing here?" A wave of dizziness washed over him, but he forced it back, stumbling doggedly toward Ashley. "It's not..._safe_...here; Taker...he-"

"What's he going to do?" the Diva Search winner interjected softly. "Come after me?" A ghost of a smile flitted across her mouth, a shrill giggle emerging from her throat. The sound of it was harsh and jarring; laced with barely contained hysteria.

Ashley must have heard it as well; must have sensed how close she was to the breaking point, because she quickly snapped her mouth closed, cutting off her frenzied laughter. Her eyes were bright now, gleaming with unshed tears, and her full lips quivered. "Randy..." the rookie Diva whispered, her voice shaking. "_I'm so scared..._"

In a flash, the Legend Killer closed the distance between them, pulling Ashley to him and holding her tight against his chest. The Diva Search winner tensed at first, but a second later, Randy felt the tips of her fingers digging into his back as she returned the embrace; felt her slender body shake as she began to cry.

The Legend Killer squeezed his eyes closed, his breath escaping his lungs in one long shuddering exhale. Dipping his head down, he pressed his lips to the top of her head, murmuring quietly into her hair, his tone just as agonized and broken as hers:

"So am I, Ash..._so am I..._"

From his position a few feet away, Matt watched the two of them embrace one another; the girl who had stolen his heart...and the man who had stolen her away from him. His expression was both miserable and furious, and a tiny muscle in his jaw throbbed as he clenched his teeth.

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, the elder Hardy brother turned his back on the hated tableau, striding down the hall and disappearing out of sight.

* * *

Ashley pressed her cheek against Randy's chest, the heat of his skin radiating up through the fabric of his t-shirt, enveloping her. She gently trailed her fingers over the sculpted contour of his pectoral, her pulse instantly quickening as her explorations evoked a soft pleasurable moan from the third-generation Superstar.

The two of them had been lying here in Randy's hotel room, safely ensconced under the bedcovers, for almost two hours now. Nothing sexual had occurred; they were both still fully clothed and hadn't gone any further than the occasional kiss or caress. The physical desire was still there-Ashley could feel its warmth tingling in the pit of her stomach-but right now, it was inconsequential, compared with her newfound feeling of emotional tranquility.

Ever since last night, since the match between her and Candice and those few stolen minutes when some strange entity had taken control of her body-the rookie Diva had felt like she was trapped in perpetual freefall; like she was spinning out of control, faster and faster, with no hope of stopping. But the moment that she had felt the Legend Killer's arms around her...everything had ground to a halt and an extraordinary stillness had fallen over her, silencing even the alien voice in the depths of her mind.

Ashley could feel her eyes drifting closed; could feel sleep-something that had eluded her for the past week-taking hold of her mind, gently but firmly tugging her away from consciousness. But instead of relinquishing herself to slumber, the Diva Search winner fought against the feeling, forcing herself to stay awake, to stay lucid. She needed to sleep...and she would, eventually...but not yet.

There was something that she needed to know first.

Ashley tilted her head up, squinting as she tried to make out Randy's features in the dim light. "Randy?" she whispered. There was no verbal response to her query; only a slight increase in pressure as the Legend Killer tightened his arms around her.

The rookie Diva bit her lip, taking a deep breath and steeling herself mentally before uttering her next question: "What..._really_...happened? Between you...and Stacy Keibler?"

Almost instantly, she felt Randy stiffen, and heard a sharp hiss as he sucked air in through his teeth. His voice broke the silence; flat and dull...but barely masking the rasp of long-buried pain: "_Why_? Why do you want to know...about _that_?"

Ashley ducked her head, burying her face in his chest. She could hear the Legend Killer's heartbeat-previously so slow and steady-thudding rapidly and hollowly against his ribs. "Because everyone thinks that you did it to send a message," she replied after a few moments. "And so do I...but not for the same reasons that everyone else does." She let her breath out slowly before continuing. "Everyone thinks that you don't care...but I know that you do...more than they ever will. Please...I want to know the truth." A pause. "I _need_ to know the truth."

A second crawled by, then another, and the Diva Search winner wondered if Randy was even going to answer her. But then, all of a sudden, she heard the words tumble from his mouth, rapid and forced, like he was tearing the bandage off a still-seeping wound: "I cared about Stacy, all right? I don't know if I loved her or not-but I cared about her...and I know-" A deep breath, almost a sob. "-I know...that she loved me."

The former World Heavyweight Champion disentangled one of his arms, reaching up to massage his temples as he went on. "After Hunter booted me out of Evolution, most of the Raw roster didn't want anything to do with me." Even though she couldn't see his face, Ashley could glimpse the flash of a bitter half-smile in his voice. "I don't blame them...I was pretty much a world-class douche. But Stace...she was different. It was like...she saw something in me...something that was worth giving a second chance."

Randy rolled over onto his back, pulling Ashley on top of him and wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. "When I decided...to go after 'Taker's Wrestlemania streak...everyone thought I was crazy; Dave, my dad...even Stacy thought I was nuts. They all begged me not to...but I-I went ahead anyway...because-" The third-generation Superstar paused as he struggled to find the right words. "If you beat the Deadman at Wrestlemania, then people will remember you forever...and I _wanted _them to remember me. I thought that I could handle it."

The Legend Killer laughed bitterly; the sound of it so choked that it was more like a deeply-lodged cough. "I was wrong...and stupid. So fucking stupid."

Without warning, Randy balled his hand up into a fist, slamming it down onto the mattress. Ashley jumped at this sudden show of aggression, but the Legend Killer didn't seem to notice; he was fully ensnared in the past. "Damn it!" he blurted out. "Why didn't he come after me? _Why didn't he come after me_? I was ready for that smoke and mirrors shit; why-" Randy paused, his anger evaporating just as swiftly as it had emerged; his voice faltering, tinged with regret and bitterness. "-why did he have to go after _her_?"

As he spoke, Ashley felt a chill rip through her, as though her internal air conditioner had been turned on full-blast. The former World Heavyweight Champion continued. "She called me one night...Stacy...she was hysterical. It took a while-she couldn't stop crying-but eventually she told me that she was seeing things, hearing things; that she'd be all alone in a room and still feel like there was someone there-"

"What did you tell her?" The rookie Diva hadn't meant to interrupt, but the words popped out of her mouth before she could check them.

Randy licked his lips. "I told her that it was nothing...nothing to worry about...but deep down...I was lying, because _I_ _knew_. I knew that it was _him_; that he was going after Stacy because she meant something to me...just like I knew that he wasn't going to stop until she went crazy or got hurt..." Another pause. "...or until...I did something about it."

The Legend Killer turned his head to the side, away from her, another harsh laugh escaping his throat. "I didn't sleep at all that night; just paced back and forth until I thought my head was going to explode. I knew that if 'Taker ever went after Stacy, I'd never be able to live with it on my conscience...but I also knew that she'd never be safe as long as she was with me. The only way..."

Randy's voice broke, and he stopped to compose himself. When he spoke again, it was with obvious effort. "The only way...that she'd ever be safe...was if 'Taker believed that she meant nothing to me. And the only way that _he'd_ believe it-" The former World Heavyweight Champion's voice cracked again, but this time, he barreled on ahead, disregarding the tears that were threatening to burst from him: "-was if _she_ believed it, too."

As soon as the Legend Killer verbalized those last six words, Ashley felt everything-all of her disconnected notions and thoughts and feelings-come together and solidify with an nearly audible _CLICK_. The rookie Diva gasped, jolting a little as though she had just been slapped.

Randy was still talking, and Ashley wondered how she could have ever thought him heartless; just listening to the misery in his tone was enough to make her want to weep. "When I showed up the next day for the Raw broadcast...no one guessed that there was something different about me, that everything was about to change. Stacy...she didn't even blink when I asked her to come to the ring with me for my promo."

The third-generation Superstar hesitated again, and Ashley felt his chest rise and fall as he gulped down breath. He wasn't crying-not openly, at least-but in the faint light, the Diva Search winner could see the moist trails of tears staining his cheeks. Randy went on, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper at this point: "I remember...holding her hand as we walked down to the ring. I remember kissing her. I remember saying that I had a _message_ for anyone who thought I was _afraid_ of the Undertaker..." Another pause, another choked breath. "And then...the next thing I remember...she was lying unconscious on the canvas...and I was standing over her."

The Legend Killer sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. "The minute I saw her lying there...I wanted to die. I wanted to fall down next to her and never wake up. But instead...I walked away. I turned my back on her _and I walked away_." Bitterness crept into Randy's tone, coating his words. "And with every step I took...the pain got less and less. By the time I got backstage...I couldn't feel anything at all."

Randy paused, and Ashley would always remember his next words: "Part of me died that night...and the day it came back to life was the day I met you."

The former World Heavyweight Champion abruptly pushed himself up, his fingers latching around Ashley's wrist with a suddenness that startled her. His eyes were barely visible pools of pain, his voice almost frantic. "I never wanted this to happen, Ash. You have to know that I never wanted to put you through _any _of this. It's just that...I love you-"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Randy's voice trailed away into silence, as though he could not believe that he had just uttered them. Ashley couldn't move; her chest had locked up and she was finding it difficult to breath.

Slowly, with a hand that was visibly shaking, Randy reached over, touching her face, resting his palm against her cheek. "I love you," he repeated softly. "I love you so much...and without you...I'm lost." Somehow, they had drawn closer together; his lips were practically grazing hers. "Without you...I'm nothing."

He started to add more, but Ashley quickly silenced him, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was far more fierce and passionate than their previous ones had been. Randy buried his hands in her gold-and-black tresses as he returned the kiss.

The two of them embraced in the darkness, their fatigue giving way (at least temporarily) to their ardor.

* * *

Matt took a huge swig from his beer can, savoring the flavor of the malted brew as it flowed down his throat. It was not his first of the evening; he was two cans away from finishing off the six-pack, and there were another six waiting in the trunk of his car should that eventuality occur-which, considering the rate he was going, was a definite possibility.

The elder Hardy brother set the can down on the hood, leaning back and taking in his surroundings. It was almost two in the morning, and he was parked at the far edge of a deserted parking lot, where even the sickly pools of light from the streetlamps couldn't reach.

Matt didn't really mind; the mood he was in, darkness suited him more than any other ambience. Besides, the less chance he ran of getting spotted by the cops, the better...because he planned on getting good and _obliterated_ tonight.

Picking up his can, the SmackDown Superstar downed another generous swallow, wondering vaguely why he had chosen to settle for beer; why he hadn't grabbed something stronger at the liquor store. Right now, he was pretty drunk-but not drunk _enough._

Not drunk enough to blot out the past...and not drunk enough to prevent Ashley Massaro from completely invading his thoughts.

The elder Hardy brother groaned, pressing the can against his forehead. It was like the worst kind of hell: he could recall every nuance of the Diva Search winner-her face, her eyes, the way she smelled, the way she _tasted_-but instead of all the good memories they had shared, all he saw were the bad ones.

Ashley...her arms wrapped around Randy Orton, their lips locked in a passionate kiss...

...the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the Legend Killer...

...the way she'd been unable to look him in the eye, her voice flat and devoid of emotion as she told him the truth...

_I can't act like I don't love Randy and want to be with him...more than...I want to be with you..._

Matt quickly chugged the remainder of his beer, crushing the can in his fist, but it wasn't enough to banish Ashley's face from his mind-

_It was real...it just wasn't enough..._

_ -_or to prevent it from suddenly morphing into Amy's countenance, her brown irises flashing with scorn-

_You're pathetic...you're not even a man anymore..._

"Shut up, you _bitch_!" With a roar, Matt hurled the empty beer can away from him. It struck the curb, bouncing once, glittering briefly in the dimness before descending in a slow arc and disappearing in the tall grass.

The elder Hardy brother watched its journey with the bewildered consternation of the inebriated. The corner of his lip twisted downward in a scowl. "Shit..." he remarked to no one in particular, his voice slurred. Sliding awkwardly off the hood of the car and taking a few seconds to find his footing, he staggered toward the location of his projectile, falling to his knees and pushing aside the weeds with both hands.

As he did so, he felt the prickling sensation of his hair standing on end, as though his body-intoxicated as it might be-somehow knew already that he was no longer alone-

_**Matt...**_

Matt's head shot up as quickly as his delayed reflexes would allow, his unfocused eyes scanning the darkness. "Hello?" he called out uncertainly. "Who's there?"

Silence greeted his query. Seconds creeped by, and gradually, the elder Hardy brother relaxed, satisfied that the phantom voice had been nothing more than the product of an alcohol-fueled imagination.

That is...until he heard the laugh. Hollow and rasping, there was something dark and _sinister_ about its sound that sent a shiver ricocheting down Matt's spine.

The elder Hardy brother stood so rapidly that he almost fell back down. He peered into the blackness, swaying back and forth unsteadily. "Who's there?" he demanded. "What'd you want?"

_**Poor boy...you love her...don't you?...**_

"How'd you-" Matt started to ask, then stopped, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. "That's none of your fuckin' business," he snarled.

The voice seemed unaffected. _**You love her...and yet she chose HIM...**_

"Shut up," the elder Hardy brother muttered hotly, but the voice took no notice.

_**She chose HIM over YOU...**_

Matt spat contemptuously, the glob of saliva arcing up and down in very much the same trajectory as the beer can. He jabbed his finger toward the source of the voice...or at least, where he imagined it to be. "_Fuck you_," the elder Hardy brother shot back, and whirling around shakily, headed back toward his car.

He only made it a few steps, however, before the voice spoke again, freezing him in place with its next comment:

_**So...what would you be willing to do...to get her back?**_

Matt slowly turned around, the words spilling out before he could stop to think about them. "_Anything..._" the elder Hardy brother whispered.

He heard the laugh again; a low ominous chuckle. _**Come closer, then...**_

Matt obeyed, his gait stumbling as he moved toward the voice's owner.

The darkness swallowed him up.


	38. Chapter 38: The Abyss Beckons

**A/N: YAY! NEW CHAPTER! How long's it been? Forever? That sounds about accurate. To sum up the past few months, I got my MFA, finished my thesis, and had my appendix removed. I'm finally off for a few months before I head out to California and start being a grown-up, so I decided to get back to work on the FF. This chapter...well, it is what it is. I don't know if I like it or not, but I worked hard to make it good. Hopefully, y'all will like it.**

**Thank you to **SLSheartsRKO, BigRedMachineUK, VanityMayhem, menji, HaleyUchihax3, Animal-Viper-Cena Fan, MissMikkiMouse, EncryptedxSoul, RKO, **and **justbornawesome **for reviewing the last chapter! You ROCK and I love you ALL! Peace!**

* * *

Chapter 38: The Abyss Beckons

Randy's eyes drifted open, studying the dim expanse of the ceiling above him. He could feel Ashley next to him, her cheek pressed against his chest, her slender body rising slightly with each soft breath as she slept.

The Legend Killer tilted his head to the side, studying the slumbering figure of the woman he loved. He envied the rookie Diva's ability to sleep despite everything that was plaguing her; to drift away as though nothing was the matter. That sort of peace…it had been stolen from him months ago, long before he had even met the Diva Search winner—it had deserted him the moment he chose to pursue war with the Undertaker.

Nowadays, all he saw when he closed his eyes was the dark silhouette of a man outlined against a wash of blue light, or the hellish orange glow of flames—or, as he was experiencing more and more frequently, the gloved fingers of the Deadman clamped over Ashley's mouth, dragging her back into the darkness…

Just as swiftly and abruptly as they came, however, the nightmares would end, leaving him panting for breath, sweat pouring down his face, his insides clenched so tight with dread that he had no recourse but to puke. And as he struggled to compose himself, to convince himself that what he had seen was nothing more than a dream, he never failed to wonder if the Undertaker was watching him during these moments of absolute weakness; if he was witnessing the third-generation Superstar's descents into terror…and savoring every second of it.

Randy touched Ashley's face, his fingers trailing gently down the smooth softness of her cheek. In some ways, he was grateful that she could sleep; that in his arms, she could find the serenity that had eluded him all these months. Anything was better than that wide-eyed countenance of frenzied panic she had shown back at the arena, her beautiful face pale and shell-shocked, her voice trembling with unshed tears as she spoke…

_Randy…I'm so scared…_

And as he stood there, holding her close to him, murmuring words of comfort in a tone just as agonized as hers, a bitter taste had filled his mouth—because deep down, he knew that every syllable he uttered was empty and devoid of meaning.

Because, truthfully, he knew that the rookie Diva had _every reason_ to be afraid.

Though he had never mentioned it, the Legend Killer had seen Ashley's match with Candice on last night's Raw broadcast; had glimpsed that instant when _she_ had disappeared—and someone, some_thing_, had taken her place. Randy remembered standing so fast that he knocked over the chair, backing away from the television until his back collided with the wall, biting his lip until he tasted blood to keep himself from screaming.

The digitized figure on the screen had looked like Ashley—but when she _moved_…Randy felt like he was staring at the Undertaker. And in that moment, the third-generation Superstar heard the full brunt of the implicit message blasting at him with all the amplified volume of a loudspeaker, as though the Deadman was standing right next to him, whispering into his ear…

_**See what I can do? I can control her any time I want. I can HAVE her any time I want. As long as you provoke me, she is MINE, and you can't stop me, you can't STOP me—**_

Randy clenched his free hand into a fist, pressing his knuckles against his mouth to stifle his anguished whimpers. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering vaguely if this madness was what would have eventually happened to Stacy if he hadn't…_intervened_.

Well, it was too late to find out now, wasn't it? He had made _damn_ sure of that.

Ever since Wrestlemania, the Legend Killer had convinced himself that he had done what he did to Stacy because he cared—but now, lying here in the darkness, teetering on the brink of Hell…he was starting to realize that it had been just the opposite.

He hadn't RKO'd the leggy Diva to protect her—he had simply been too much of a coward to fight for her…and ultimately, he just hadn't cared enough for her to risk it all.

But _now_…things were different.

_Now…_he _did_ care.

And _now…_this war…had just become personal.

Randy wrapped his arms tightly around the sleeping Diva Search winner, embracing her protectively. "You can't have her." His voice was a low murmur, threaded with a barely concealed bitter hatred.

"I won't _let_ you have her…"

* * *

Ashley walked slowly down the hallway in the direction of the women's locker room, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Tonight's broadcast from the TD Garden in Boston marked her first time back in a Raw arena since her match with Candice the previous week…and already, the rookie Diva was not looking forward to the evening ahead.

Even after seven days, the memories of that bout—the beginning and the end, and the absolute blackness sandwiched between—refused to dissipate, and even the transient bliss she had shared with Randy had failed to assuage the sensations of dread and anxiety churning within her.

Between _that_, and the cold shoulder everyone else seemed to be content to give her after the incident between Matt and the Legend Killer, Ashley didn't know what kind of treatment to expect from the Divas' division…but she strongly suspected they wouldn't exactly be welcoming her with open arms.

If only there was some way to explain it to them—but that was impossible; the truth was even more bizarre and insane than what had actually occurred. And even if she _could_…there was no way she could make them understand.

Especially since the only two people who _did_ wouldn't be there to back her up.

The Diva Search winner swallowed hard, pushing aside a wave of dizziness that was part nausea, part nostalgia. She had felt almost this exact same way before, just prior to walking into the locker room as a Diva for the first time—nervous, uncertain, wondering what they all must think of her. And for not the first time, she found herself wondering what would have happened if _none_ of it had happened—if she had ignored Candice, if she hadn't accepted Torrie's dare, if (God forbid) she had kissed Gene Snitsky instead of Randy—

Ashley halted, tilting her face up toward the ceiling and squinting her eyes against the harsh impersonal glare of the fluorescent bulbs. She could spent all day listing the "What ifs"—but it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't stop what was happening to Randy…or to her.

Up ahead, the rookie Diva finally spotted the door to the locker room. She stopped in front of it, pressed her hand against the cool metal, and taking a deep breath, pushed it open.

The room wasn't completely empty—_that _would have been too much to hope for. Victoria was by the makeup counter, carefully checking her eyeliner in the mirror. On the other side of the room, Maria and Mickie were huddled together on one of the benches, talking together in low serious tones.

Their quiet stream of conversation abruptly ceased as the Diva Search winner stepped into the room. The eyeliner pencil slipped from Victoria's fingers, clicking softly against the concrete floor. All three stared wordlessly at the rookie Diva.

Ashley met their gazes with effort, forcing her mouth to curve upward in a smile. "What? Is there something on my face?" Silence greeted her failed attempt at humor, and the Diva Search winner quickly averted her eyes, moving to a far cubbyhole and shrugging off her coat.

Even with her back turned, however, she could still feel the uncomfortable weight of the other Divas' stares, like a thick stifling blanket that had been thrown over her. The silence was deafening.

Ashley gripped the edge of the upper shelf with both hands, pressing her forehead against her fingers. "_Someone _say _something_." Her voice was soft, almost pleading. "Come on…I _know_ you're all thinking it—"

Her plead received no answer…only more silence.

All of a sudden, Ashley felt something give way within her, unleashing a wave of anger and bitterness so acute that it felt like someone had poured battery acid on her insides. "_Fuck_!" Without warning, she kicked the shelves, her boot glancing off the laminated wood with a hollow TWOCK. She kicked it again. And again. "_Fuck, fuck, FUCK_!"

The rookie Diva whirled around, her blue-green irises blazing. Maria was already cringing as though she'd been slapped, tears pooling in her emerald eyes. Mickie put a comforting hand on her arm, watching Ashley with a mixture of concern and wariness. Across the room, Victoria was already backing away, the edge of the makeup counter preventing her from getting very far.

The Diva Search winner stared back at them, breath tearing hoarsely in and out of her lungs, her voice harsh and barely recognizable. "I'm so…_sick_…of this—of all of _you_! I bust my _ass_ just so you'll _accept_ me, so you'll treat me like a goddamn _human being—_but I make _one_ mistake, and I go right back to being the outsider, to being the _freak_!"

Ashley looked around, her eyes never leaving the trio of Divas. "What gives you the right, huh? What gives you the right to judge _me—_when your _stupid _rules and your _bullshit _cliques are the thing that's fucked up—"

She stood a step forward, and almost in unison, the other Divas unconsciously drew back, shrinking away from her as though they feared she might hit them. The rookie Diva's gaze moved from one to the next, her body sagging as realization gradually dawned on her. "Oh…I see. I get it now. You're afraid. You're afraid…that I'll do to you…what I did to Candice and Torrie."

Ashley pressed her lips together. Already, her rage and her fire were draining out of her, leaving her just as empty and broken as before. Slowly, she bobbed her head up and down in a nod, tears blurring her vision. "That's good…maybe you should be." Her voice had grown softer; it was now little more than a tight strained whisper. "_I know I am_."

With that, she bolted for the door, yanking it open and stumbling out into the corridor, breaking out into a run almost immediately.

The rookie Diva didn't know where she was when she finally stopped; tears had reduced her vision to streams of light and color. All she knew was that she could no longer hear voices, or sense other people around her. For once, her physical location mirrored her emotional one.

Ashley slumped back against the wall, pressing both hands against her face and trying her very hardest not to cry; not to break down as she had done so many times already. Her one thought—if it could even be called that—was that it was really too bad Candice wasn't here to appreciate this…because in the most fucked-up way possible, the brunette Diva had finally gotten what she wanted.

"He doesn't have a chance."

The Diva Search winner stiffened as a familiar voice cut through the haze of misery and self-pity surrounding her. Ashley hesitantly lowered her hands, her heart instantly plummeting into her stomach as she stared up into the face of the Big Red Machine.

Kane slowly tilted his head to the side, studying the rookie Diva with the same reptilian focus as a snake eying potential prey. The side of his mouth twisted upward in a warped half-smile. "Once my brother _destroys_ your boyfriend…nothing's going to stop him from coming after _you_."

The Tag Team Champion paused, leaning in closer, still staring at Ashley with that same unsettling intense focus. "_You're trembling_," he whispered. There was something in his voice, something which hinted at dark unspeakable things, and the Diva Search winner wished desperately that the earth would open up at that very second and swallow her whole. "Do I _frighten_ you?"

Ashley rapidly shook her head, backing away from the Big Red Machine as subtly as she dared. "_No_…" she retorted, her voice defiant…but still quavering with the unmistakable hint of fear. "I'm not afraid of you—_or _him."

"_Liar_!" Faster than she could have imagined, Kane was in front of her, blocking her between his massive arms, his face mere inches from hers. "_I can smell your fear_." His hot fetid breath washed over her, and Ashley had to fight the urge to gag. His mismatched eyes bore into hers; she could have sworn that the pale blue one was peering directly into her soul.

The Big Red Machine's maniacal grin widened. "How did it feel, _tasting_ the darkness, seeing the blood on your hands and knowing that _you were to blame_? How did it feel…staring into the abyss?" He leaned even closer, his rasping voice dropping to a level that only the two of them could hear: "_You can't escape him_—"

"Kane."

Both of them looked up at the utterance of the Big Red Machine's name, and Ashley felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief surge through her limbs when she saw Lita standing a few feet away, staring at the Tag Team Champion with absolutely no intimidation.

The Queen of Hardcore planted her hands on her hips, tilting her chin just a fraction. "_Back off_." When Kane made no move to do so, her brown eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "_Now_."

For one long agonizing second, no one moved. Then, thankfully, Kane straightened up, stepping back from the Diva Search winner. All of his focus was on Lita now; Ashley could see a mixture of fascination and something she'd rather not name glittering in the depths of his mismatched eyes. "Whatever you say…_wife_."

The red-haired Diva's expression didn't change, but she held up her left hand, emphasizing her bare ring finger. "_Not anymore_," the Queen of Hardcore shot back flatly.

Kane merely chuckled, a sinister chuffing sound, his mouth still twisted in that sick smile. "Of course…I keep forgetting." He swept one last lingering look over Lita's lithe body—one which would have made Ashley's skin crawl if it had been directed at her—before brushing past her and moving down the hallway.

The red-haired Diva never took her eyes off him; it wasn't until the Big Red Machine lumbered around a corner and disappeared from sight that she glanced back at the rookie Diva, peering closely at her with what could have almost been concern. "Did he hurt you?"

Ashley shook her head, pushing herself up and off the wall. "No, I—"

That was all she got out before Lita punched her in the face.

The blow sent the Diva Search winner reeling backward, crashing into a stack of chairs as she struggled to regain her bearings. Without breaking motion, the Queen of Hardcore kicked her in the abdomen, knocking her to the floor and driving all the air out of her lungs.

As Ashley lay there, struggling to draw breath back into her body, she heard the rapid rhythm of footsteps, followed by Lita's fingers in her hair, her fingernails actually digging into the rookie Diva's scalp as she yanked her head up.

The red-haired Diva jammed her face into Ashley's. Her expression was emotionless, but fury poured out of her brown eyes. "You stupid little _bitch_," the former Women's Champion spat. "I _warned _you—I _told _you what would happen if you fucked him over. But you didn't listen; you just _had_ to give it out like the little skank you are—"

In spite of the pain, in spite of the situation, Ashley felt an involuntary giggle escape her throat. "Just like you, huh?"

The slap that Lita nailed her with was so hard that it brought tears to her eyes. The Queen of Hardcore's voice was soft, but as hard and piercing as nails. "If you ever, _ever_, lump me in with you again, I'll break your jaw. You are nowhere _near_ my league."

Lita paused, and Ashley heard her shift her weight a little. "One thing you should know about me—I don't make idle threats. That's why, as soon as I got here, I booked a little match for the two of us tonight. _You_…against _me…_with _no disqualification_."

The red-haired Diva laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "Not that it matters; even _with _rules, you don't stand a chance against me—no matter what that Canadian whore's taught you. And don't think that your little victory last week actually _means_ anything. The only thing you did was beat the one Diva more _useless _than you—and while that psycho act you put on in the ring might have everyone else scared, it doesn't scare _me._"

Lita leaned closer, until the tip of her nose bumped against Ashley's. "You…you're just a problem…one I should have _dealt with_ a _long_ time ago."

"_Please_," Ashley's mouth was dry, her voice barely more than a cracked whisper. Her face was throbbing, she could still barely breathe, and she was no longer certain of her ability to control her gag reflex. "Please…you don't know what you're doing—"

"Oh, I know _exactly_ what I'm doing," the Queen of Hardcore interrupted coldly. "Tonight…I'm ending your fucking career." With that, she slammed the rookie Diva's face against the concrete floor with brutal force.

As Ashley lay there, rapidly lapsing into unconsciousness, the last thing she heard before the darkness overtook her was the sound of Lita's footsteps dying away into silence.


	39. Chapter 39: The Queen of Hardcore

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! This is one of the chapters that I actually like-at least, I like the idea of it; hopefully, the execution was decent enough. I hope you all enjoy it! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **AprilGilbert1996, Shandy777, VanityMayhem, Souless666, Viper Cena Fan, justbornawesome, BigRedMachineUK, just a fan, **and **MissMikkiMouse **for reviewing! I love you ALL! *big hugs for everyone***

* * *

Chapter 39: The Queen of Hardcore

Ashley gingerly probed her cheekbone with her fingertips, wincing as they located the spot where Lita's punch had landed. A heavy layer of concealer had succeeded in covering up the bruising, but the area was still puffy and—as she had just discovered - sore to the touch.

The rookie Diva scrunched up her face, immediately sucking her breath through her teeth in another sharp pain-filled hiss. If there was one complimentary thing that could be said about the Queen of Hardcore, it was that she certainly got to the point; the red-haired Diva didn't mince words...or pull punches.

_ Tonight...I'm ending your fucking career..._

The quiet creak of the hinges jarred the Diva Search winner from her reverie, and she quickly tore her gaze away from her reflection in the makeup mirror, her expression hardening just a touch as Trish stepped into the room.

For several long seconds, the two Divas - the rookie and the veteran, the contest winner and the Women's Champion - regarded each other awkwardly. Eventually, Ashley looked away, clearing her throat. "Didn't think I'd see _you_ back here."

The Canadian beauty looked around; save for the two of them, the women's locker room was deserted - all of the other Raw Divas had suddenly realized about five minutes after Ashley returned to the changing area that there was someplace important that they all desperately needed to be. Trish swung her gaze toward the floor, her countenance neutral. "Yeah, well...I guess that makes two of us."

"Aren't you _afraid_?" The rookie Diva's voice held the barest note of bitter sarcasm. Picking up a container of mascara, she carefully flicked the applicator wand against her upper lashes. "Haven't you _heard_ - apparently, I'm _dangerous_."

A pale ghost of a smile flickered around Trish's mouth. "I'll take my chances." At this, the Diva Search winner slumped a little, the wand slipping from her fingers. She bowed her head, her black-streaked blond hair falling forward and partially obscuring her face.

The Women's Champion took an apprehensive step forward, biting her lip, wariness and concern vying for domination on her perfectly-featured face. Her voice, when she spoke, was tentative, pleading: "Ash..._please_...don't _do _this," Ashley said nothing, and Trish took another step toward her. "Forfeit the match, drop out - just don't go out there tonight!" With one hand, she pushed her golden locks back from her face. "No offense...but you know you don't stand a chance against Lita-"

"This isn't about winning," the rookie Diva interrupted flatly, her gaze still focused on the makeup counter.

"Then _what_?" Trish shot back, her tone filled with equal parts worry and exasperation.

The Diva Search winner slowly lifted her head, shooting the Canadian beauty a sidelong glance. "Let's just say...I'm getting what I deserve."

"What you _deserve_?" the Women's Champion reiterated incredulously. "Ash, you don't deserve _this_-"

"Oh my God - do you _realize _how fucked-up that sounds?" Ashley exclaimed. She whirled around to face Trish, tilting her chin up defiantly. "_You _slapped me, the rest of the roster treats me like a leper - why _shouldn't_ I go out there and let her kick my ass?" To this, the Canadian beauty had no response. The rookie Diva went on, her blue-green irises still fixed on her former mentor. "You know...I may not like Lita _or _the things she's done...but at least _she's_ always been honest with me."

Trish visibly flinched at this, but the Diva Search winner pressed on relentlessly. "She never lied to me about how much she hated me...or what she would do to me if I ever screwed up. And what's even _more_ fucked-up is that as much as I hate her...I still know her better than I know _you_." She paused, swallowing hard. "At least...with her...I know where I stand...whereas with _you_...I don't think I ever did."

A long silence followed her words; so long that she was sure Trish had nothing more to say. It wasn't until Ashley turned back toward the mirror and picked up the mascara wand that the Women's Champion broke the quiet, her voice low and deliberate: "The two of them...Amy and Matt, I mean...they were already a serious couple before they ever came to the WWE...so I guess you could say that I never had a shot. But for some reason...the first time I met him, it was like...like the bottom of my stomach had dropped out, and I couldn't...couldn't even _breathe_."

Trish laughed, a high nervous sound. "I think...for the first year or two...he must have thought that I was an _idiot_ or something, because whenever I was around him, I couldn't...get my words together. And don't get me wrong; I _was_ dating at the time...but when I was around Matt was the only time it ever felt _right_. You know...like this was who I was _supposed_ to be with." The Canadian beauty paused, her tone holding only the slightest note of grudging. "Like...how you probably feel...with Randy."

At the mention of the Legend Killer, Ashley felt a small chill course through her, but her expression registered nothing. The Women's Champion went on, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice. "He never saw me, of course, not in that way - the only woman he ever had eyes for was Amy. And part of me...was glad, because she was my _best friend_ and I would have killed myself rather than do anything to hurt her - but at the same time, there was another part of me that hated her _so much_..."

Trish sniffed, blinking rapidly as she glanced up at the ceiling for a second or two. "I'd like to think...that if things had kept going the way they were...that eventually, I would have gotten over it. That I would have met someone, and...burned everything out; all these _feelings_ that I wasn't supposed to have. But life never gives you that chance...does it?"

The Canadian beauty paused again. Her voice was filled with evident strain, as though it was taking every ounce of courage she possessed just to keep talking. "The whole thing with Kane..._happened_...and Matt got injured, and Amy..._changed_. I don't know how to describe it; it was like...she got all secretive all of a sudden." Another hesitation. "But I can honestly say that I had _no idea_ what was going on until I turned down the wrong hallway one night, and saw her and Edge..._together_."

Trish swallowed hard. "They never saw me...but it was pretty obvious what was going on between them. And later that night, back at the hotel room - Amy was gone; I was all alone - I lay there, wide awake until almost dawn, thinking about what I was going to do."

The Women's Champion abruptly sagged, slumping against the wall, as though all of her energy had inexplicably deserted her. As Ashley watched, tears pooled in her green eyes, rolling down her cheeks one by one, but Trish took no notice of them; she was too wrapped up in her own recollections: "In hindsight...I should have talked to Amy first; I should have confronted her about what I had seen. But for some reason...that night...all I could think about was _Matt_ - how he was _injured_ because of her, how he was _in pain_ because of her, how she was throwing away what I would have given _anything_ to have - and I thought that if...I could knock her off her pedestal _just a little bit_...then maybe, for once, he'd see me standing there-"

"So you told him," Ashley interjected quietly. It was neither a statement nor a question.

Trish said nothing; only nodded miserably. After a moment or two, the Canadian beauty regained enough of her composure to resume talking. "After I did...he got all quiet on the other end of the phone...then he said that he had to go, and hung up. That was the last I heard...until Amy walked into the locker room a few days later with a bruised face."

Ashley heard herself gasp; a soft strangled sound. The Women's Champion continued: "Neither of us said anything - I don't even know what I _would_ have said if I _could_ - but our eyes met across the room...and I could _tell_, just by looking at her, that she _knew_...knew how Matt had found out." Trish sniffed again, wiping her nose with her sleeve."After that...well, you know how the rest of the story turned out."

The Canadian beauty pressed her palm to her forehead, and Ashley could see her lips quivering as she struggled to rein in her emotions. In spite of herself, her anger, her frustration - the rookie Diva felt a sudden upwelling of pity for her former mentor. It was clear that Trish was sharing something she had probably never planned on revealing to _anyone_ - something that had been locked inside her for so long that just forcing it out into the open was tearing her apart.

And in that moment, Ashley wondered if she and Trish were more alike than she had previously thought...because the Women's Champion obviously knew what it felt like to live with guilt.

The Canadian beauty's voice cut across her thoughts again, the sound of it so tentative and heartbroken and utterly un-Trish-like that she almost didn't recognize it: "If I had _known_...that it would spin out of control the way it did - that they would _fire_ him, that he would come back and Amy would make his life a living hell - I swear I _never_ would have said _anything_-"

Trish's voice broke, and she covered her mouth with her hand; her shoulders shaking once, twice, as she briefly relinquished herself to her misery. Part of Ashley wanted to cross the room and give her a hug, but the Diva Search winner didn't move - in spite of everything that had come out into the open, the distance between them was still too great.

After a minute or two, the Women's Champion had resumed control over her emotions. Her voice was flat, toneless, as though the only way she could get the words out was by pretending that they didn't belong to her. "Sometimes...I think...that he hates me. That when he looks at me...he _knows..._that it's _my _fault for everything that's happened. And as much as it breaks my heart...I don't blame him...because _I feel the same way_."

"It wouldn't have changed anything," The words were out of Ashley's mouth before she could stop herself. The rookie Diva took a few steps forward, bridging the gap between her and the Canadian beauty. "No matter _how_ Matt found out...you _know_ that he wouldn't have kept his mouth shut; that he would have said something _regardless_."

Trish slowly nodded her head. Her eyes were red, tears still trickling down her cheeks. "I've been telling myself that for a long time now...but somehow...that still doesn't make it hurt any less."

The Diva Search winner glanced down for a second, studying the texture of the concrete floor. "I never meant to hurt him. I never..._wanted_...to hurt him."

Trish nodded again, her green irises finally focusing on Ashley once more. "I know that now." Another long silence stretched out between them, but strangely, there was nothing uncomfortable about it this time - and the rookie Diva knew with a sort of innate certainty that while she and the Women's Champion might never see eye-to-eye...at least now they understood one another.

Gradually, Ashley averted her gaze, combing her long hair back from her face with both hands. "I should...head down to gorilla; my match is coming up soon."

"At least-" Trish struggled back into an upright position, scrubbing hastily at her tearstained face with one hand. "At least let me go down to the ring with you - if I'm on the outside, I can probably keep it semi-legal-"

"No!" The Diva Search winner's voice came out sharper than she had intended, and across the room, she thought she saw the Canadian beauty visibly flinch. Ashley held up one hand, as though trying to ward off the Women's Champion. "It's nothing personal...I just don't want you to get hurt."

A fleeting look of petulant hurt flashed across Trish's perfect features. "I can take care of Lita." the Women's Champion replied tightly.

The rookie Diva swallowed hard, and she forced herself to meet her former mentor's gaze - despite the icy chill rippling through her body. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely above a whisper:

"It's not Lita that I'm afraid of..."

* * *

_And to be yourself is all that you can do_

_ To be yourself is all that you can do_

Normally, Ashley tuned out her entrance music - but tonight, for some reason, Audioslave's refrain kept echoing in her head as she walked down the ramp, resonating with some deep inner part of her being. Maybe because, in some way, the lyrics summed up the core conflict she had faced since coming to the WWE - remaining true to herself despite everyone else's expectations.

Or perhaps, on a less philosophical note, because focusing on the song kept her from thinking about the challenge awaiting her less than fifty yards away - the greatest challenge she had come up against since winning the Diva Search.

Lita had her hands on her hips, her head cocked to one side, a smirk of heelish bemusement on her face, as though to say: _Really? REALLY? I'm a former Women's Champion; is THIS the best they could give me? _Her eyes were the only thing that gave her away - icy and calculating, they never wavered from the rookie Diva as she jogged up the steel steps, slipping between the top and middle ropes into the ring.

Referee Chad Patton shot both of them a look (the one he gave _her_, Ashley couldn't help but notice, was filled with considerably more apprehension than the one he directed at Lita) before cautiously motioning for the bell. Immediately, the two Divas faced off against one another, matching each other step for step as they circled around the gleaming white expanse of canvas.

"C'mon, _Ash_," The red-haired Diva's voice was filled with a challenging maliciousness; so low that only Ashley and the referee could have possibly heard it. "Where's that _competitive spirit_?"

The Queen of Hardcore abruptly stopping circling, striding boldly toward the Diva Search winner. Her alto voice was still soft and scornful. "You know...just because I'm feeling so _nice_...I'll let you have one shot for free." Lita tapped her cheekbone, the movement slow and deliberate. "Go on..._I dare you_."

It was a trap, and in the back of her mind, Ashley _knew _it was a trap - but for some reason, that awareness wasn't enough of an incentive to keep her from swinging wildly at the Queen of Hardcore, the other Diva's derisive words reverberating in her skull...

_You...are far too much like me..._

Lita's forearm shot up, blocking the blow, and before the Diva Search winner could react, the red-haired Diva used her other to nail a vicious clothesline. The offensive move nearly took Ashley's head off; the rookie Diva hit the mat shoulder-blade first, all the air forcibly exiting her lungs as though expelled by a pump.

Above her, she thought she heard Lita mutter: "Amateur..." Ashley didn't much care; she was too busy trying to somehow suck precious oxygen back into her body. Through the haze of dizziness engulfing her, she felt the Queen of Hardcore grab a handful of her hair, yanking her ungracefully back to her feet - followed by the sudden loss of balance and the agonizing impact as the red-haired Diva sent her crashing back down with a side Russian leg-sweep.

Lita quickly hooked the Diva Search winner's leg for the pin; Patton was beside her in an instant, slamming his hand down onto the mat-

_1...2..._

Ashley's left shoulder shot off the canvas, nearly throwing Lita off her. The Queen of Hardcore snapped her head back, her expression briefly registering mild surprise. In a heartbeat, however, it was gone; replaced by her original sneering determination. Pulling the rookie Diva back to her feet, she lifted her bodily up into the air, slamming her down onto her knee with a nasty backbreaker.

As soon as her spine connected with the hard joint of Lita's leg, Ashley felt as though several of her vertebrae had shifted. In the midst of the blinding pain, she felt Lita hook her leg a second time, followed by the vibrations of the referee's hand as he beat out the count-

_1...2..._

This time, it was Ashley's _right_ shoulder that arched off the mat. Lita sprang to her knees and spun around, staring at the Diva Search winner with furious astonishment. Her brown eyes narrowed to small slits, and with a low snarl, she grabbed the Diva Search winner by the throat, pulling her up to her own level.

Ashley could barely think; the world around her had become a bright mosaic of light and noise and pain - all of a sudden, Lita's face was in hers, her breath blowing hotly against the rookie Diva's skin, her voice deafening and almost incomprehensible: "You stupid _bitch_!"

Ashley saw the flicker of movement as the Queen of Hardcore raised her arm, followed by the stinging pain as Lita hit her with a back-handed slap. The blow knocked the Diva Search winner back down to the canvas, and instinctively, she began crawling toward the nearest set of ropes - not that the ropes would provide much of a refuge in a no-DQ match.

She heard Lita scream again - "Why won't you just _stay down_?" - and the red-haired Diva's foot slammed into her ass, knocking her onto the ropes, the bottom one catching her in the windpipe and nearly garroting her. Immediately, Lita was on her, her boots digging into the rookie Diva's shoulder blades as she stood on her, using the top rope for leverage as she pressed Ashley even harder into the bottom one.

Immediately, Patton was at the Queen of Hardcore's side, yelling at her to get down - but in a match like this, he had no real authority; all he could do at this point was negotiate strenuously.

The Diva Search winner gasped for air, clawing frantically at her throat. Already, the overload of sensation surrounding her was starting to dull, images fading into bright blobs of color, then pulsating waves of black as she began to pass in and out of consciousness...

_**Yes...**_

Ashley froze, her mind churning with what little energy it still possessed. That last ripple of darkness...it hadn't been the result of a lack of oxygen...but something _else_.

Something _aware._

Something capable of the profoundest destruction...and something which had already taken control of her once before.

Even now, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, Ashley could sense it lurking at the back of her mind, sentient and silent, waiting for that one perfect second where it could seize hold and drag her back down into the blackness...

And once _that _happened..._no one _would be safe.

By now, the referee had succeeded in coaxing Lita down from the ropes and off of the Diva Search winner. The red-haired Diva paced back and forth like a caged jungle cat, her expression both enraged and pleased - as though she was going enjoy whatever further havoc she unleashed on the hapless rookie Diva. "Come _on_, _Ash_," she taunted through clenched teeth. "Don't _tell_ me that's all you've _got_."

Coughing and straining for each and every breath, the rookie Diva used the ropes to pull herself to her feet, turning toward the Queen of Hardcore. Instantly, the world turned sideways and she almost collapsed to the mat again, but Ashley forced it back; forced herself to step forward on legs that were limp and watery, holding out her hands imploringly. "Lita...please..." Her voice was little more than air passing through her throat. "Listen...you have to get away from me..."

The look of stunned surprise on Lita's face was absolute, but swift - in the next moment, it had vanished, replaced by her usual countenance of bitter scorn. "Is _this_ your way of trying to win the match?" the red-haired Diva drawled, raising her eyebrows mockingly. "Because if it _is_...your acting _sucks_."

"_Listen to me_!" The Diva Search winner broke down coughing again, and bent over, putting her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. With her last bit of effort, she forced the words out: "_I can't stop him_-"

Then the world went black and she knew no more.

Lita tapped her booted foot impatiently. "_Hell-lo_?" she remarked sarcastically, staring at the rookie Diva. She wasn't quite sure what was going on; just a second ago, the little skank had been begging for mercy - and then all of a sudden, she had gone completely still. The Diva Search was still bent over, but no longer choking and striving for breath; in fact, Lita couldn't tell if she was still breathing _at all._

In the back of her mind, the red-haired Diva heard the faint jangle of her internal danger alarms going off - there was something about this that just _wasn't quite right_. But Lita quickly shrugged it off. There was no way Ashley could beat her, and both of them knew it - the bitch was just trying to psych her out.

Well, she was about to learn a lesson the _hard_ way - that lesson being if there was _one_ person you _never_ tried to psych out...it was the Queen of Hardcore.

Scowling, Lita squeezed her hand into a fist. "Useless little whore..." she muttered under her breath, and with a sudden violent movement, swung her fist toward the other Diva's head.

Just before her knuckles could make contact, however, Ashley's hand shot up, catching Lita's fist with unnatural swiftness. The red-haired Diva's grimace faded, giving way to surprise...and more than a little unease. "The _hell_?-"

She tried to tug her hand free, but to her astonishment, found that she couldn't - it was as though the Diva Search winner's grip had been infused with steel. She tried again, with more effort this time; Ashley response was to tighten her grip, the tips of her fingernails digging into Lita's skin.

Unlike the forearm she had thrown earlier, the rookie Diva's grasp possessed surprising strength, and the Queen of Hardcore couldn't bite a yelp of pain as she felt the bones in her hand grind together painfully. At the sound, Ashley lifted her head, bringing her face back into view...and as soon as she did, Lita felt her internal temperature plummet into the negative range.

The Diva Search winner's eyes had rolled back into her skull, leaving only the white visible. Her delicate features were slack, lifeless - as though they were merely a mask stretched over the face of another entity entirely. And in the depth of her mind, Lita felt _something_ - some small node of her sanity and rationality - give way and snap.

Her lips moved; her frightened voice almost unrecognizable in her own ears: "What the _fuck_-"

Ashley's face didn't so much as twitch. With brutal force, she wrenched Lita's wrist hard to the right, and the red-haired Diva heard a low sickening POP, followed by unimaginable agony.

The Queen of Hardcore let out an involuntary shriek of pain, stumbling backward, and Ashley abruptly released her hold, so that Lita lost her footing and landed ungraciously on her ass. Cradling her injured hand against her chest - _Dislocated, almost certainly_... the remaining rational portion of her mind informed her - she pushed herself back with her good arm and her feet, trying to put as much distance between her and the Diva Search winner.

Ashley followed her, her movements slow, purposeful. Her eyes rolled back to normal, and even from where she sat, Lita could see that their color had darkened all the way to emerald, blazing from within as though lit by hellish fire.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved," As soon as she heard _that voice_, Lita felt all capacity to talk leave her in a petrified whimper. It was Ashley's voice...and at the same time, it _wasn't_. As impossible as it was - there was _another_ voice layered on top of hers; as though there were actually _two _people speaking through the Diva Search winner.

And that voice...well, the Queen of Hardcore recognized it all too well. It was a man's voice.

A man...who had a nasty habit...of coming back from the dead.

"No...no, _please_," the red-haired Diva pleaded softly. Her spine connected painfully with the steel ringpost, effectively ending her retreat, but still Lita shrank back as the rookie Diva drew nearer and nearer to her.

_No_. _Not Ashley_. It was terrifyingly obvious that Ashley Massaro was nowhere in this ring. Those might be _her_ eyes boring a hole into the Queen of Hardcore...but there was something else, some_one_ else entirely, staring out from behind them.

The Diva Search winner was speaking again, the dual voices emanating from her throat the most eerie and unsettling thing Lita had ever heard. "_This_...does not concern you." She stopped, looming over the former Women's Champion, outlined against the rack of lights - and for one single insane moment, Lita could have sworn that she saw the other Diva's silhouette shimmer; shifting from that of a diminutive young woman...to that of a tall man with a wide-brimmed hat.

Ashley stared down at her, and for a second, her eyes seemed to glow. "And now..." the rookie Diva whispered, in a voice that was no longer her voice, but wholly _other_. "...you _will_ pay."

"_Please_..." the red-haired Diva whispered piteously. "I'm sorry..._I'm sorry_..."

Then Ashley's shadow fell over her, blotting out the light...and Lita screamed.

* * *

At a T-junction somewhere in the bowels of the TD Garden, Matt stood in front of a monitor, watching the Divas' bout unfold—if it could even be called _that_ at this; the odds had become so one-sided that it was more like watching a slaughter.

The elder Hardy brother's face registered nothing, even as Ashley wrapped her legs around Lita's neck, locking her in a modified gogoplata. It wasn't that he didn't _care_—even the digital divide of a television screen couldn't change the fact that both of his exes were down in that ring; women who, to varying degrees, he still loved. No…it was just that he was finding it increasingly harder to feel _anything_.

Ever since last week, when the Undertaker had drawn him into the shadows and explained what he wanted him to do, the SmackDown Superstar had felt like he was trapped in the lingering aftermath of a hangover. A thick leaden blanket of lethargy and apathy had dropped down over him, numbing him to the marrow, and as the days crept by, Matt was finding it increasingly harder to think…or _feel_.

But it would all be worth it in the end…right? Soon, he would have Ashley back—until then, he could bear a little…_insensitivity_.

On-screen, Chad Patton motioned frantically for the bell. Lita was clearly unconscious, the blood trickling from the corners of her mouth nearly the same vivid hue as her hair. Other referees were in the ring now, trying to get Ashley to release the hold; it took three of them, Patton included, to eventually pry the Diva Search winner off.

For a moment, the rookie Diva stood there, regarding the effects of her destruction without the faintest flicker of remorse or reaction…then, she abruptly sagged, blinking slowly as though she had just emerged from a deep sleep—and just like that, Ashley was back.

At the same time, Matt heard a faint sound in the darkened hallway just behind him—like the distant howl of blowing wind—and _knew_, just from the way his skin was prickling up into goose bumps, that the Undertaker had returned.

The elder Hardy brother turned his head to the side without taking his eyes off the screen. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Ashley, who—seeing for the first time the consequences of her mayhem—had just burst into hysterical tears, and the words were out of his mouth before he could even think to check them: "Why are you _doing _this to her?"

_**Because she needs to be afraid. Right now…she's scared…but not scared enough…**_

Matt slowly shook his head, trying to string notions together despite the haze of deadness surrounding him. "If you can do…_this—_then why do you even need _me_?"

_**My will only lasts for so long…and hers is strong. Even during the match…I could still feel her fighting me, resisting me. You, on the other hand…**_Even though the layer of darkness separating them, Matt could still feel the weight of the Deadman's gaze on him. _**She trusts you. She will come to you…if you ask her…**_

The elder Hardy brother's voice was soft, and thick with effort. "Just…just don't _hurt_ her."

For a moment, there was nothing…then he heard the laugh again; its sound sinister and far from comforting. _**She will remain unharmed**_**.**

A gloved hand suddenly reached out of the black void, latching onto Matt's shoulder, its fingers digging into the meat of his arm. _**After Sunday, Orton will be dealt with…and everything will be as it was. Isn't that what you want?**_

"Yes…" the elder Hardy brother whispered.

_**Good…**_ The hand withdrew. _**Now come—we cannot remain here. If someone sees you, there will be questions…**_

Matt obeyed, turned around and moving toward the darkened corridor. Just as he was about to step into it, however, he paused, shooting one last glance at the glowing screen of the monitor. Ashley had collapsed to her knees, still crying. Trish was beside her now, her arms wrapped protectively around the rookie Diva as she attempted to console her.

For an instant, Matt's expression softened as _something_—some half-remembered flash of warmth, of _love_—flitted across his features. But in the next, his countenance hardened again, and he turned his back, vanishing into the blackness.


	40. Chapter 40: In The Mouth of Madness

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I'm going to go on record, and say that this chapter scared the hell out of me while I was writing it, and that hasn't happened in a while. I apologize for typos; I finished this in a marathon session, and those pesky buggers always manage to slip by me. Other than that-ENJOY! PEACE!**

**Thank you to** AprilGilbert1996, Souless666, xxxMusicPassionxxx, BigRedMachineUK, Viper Cena Fan, justbornawesome, SLSheartsRKO, AshleyTheApp, xHollaBlondiiee, **and **MissMikkiMouse** for reviewing the last chapter! I love you ALL!**

* * *

Chapter 40: In The Mouth of Madness

Ashley swayed unsteadily, groping blindly at the wall with one hand as she staggered down the hall. Her legs felt as thin and insubstantial as water; incapable of supporting her, let alone propelling her forward. She'd almost collapsed several times during her slow trek back to the locker room - sensation evaporating along with the ability to maintain her balance - and if it hadn't been for the unwavering support of Trish, there to yank her almost impatiently back to her feet every time she fell, she wouldn't have even made it this far.

While the rookie Diva was grateful for the Women's Champion's presence, part of her wanted to fall down for good; to crumple to the ground in a heap of arms and legs and not get back up. Her whole body hurt, her back most of all, from the unrelenting physical punishment Lita had inflicted, and even an extended stop at the trainer's room had done little to assuage the waves of agony radiating up and down her slender frame.

But it was more than the beating Ashley had endured - there was also the one she in turn had administered on the Queen of Hardcore...and that one brought with it an emotional ache as well; one which not even the most potent painkillers could begin to dull.

Words could not adequately describe what it had felt like during that match: the dizzying sensation of being ripped out of her own body and then just as violently thrown back in; the brutal shock of opening her eyes and seeing the carnage that awaited her in the ring - the splatters and smears of blood, the unconscious form of the Queen of Hardcore, the clump of Lita's vivid red hair, torn out by the roots, still clenched in her own hand...

And above it all, the terrifying awareness, the _knowing_, that regardless of what she may or may remember, _she_ was the one responsible...

With what limited rational comprehension she still possessed, Ashley thought about what Lita had seen during that horrifying handful of minutes; what must have gone through her mind as she watched her rival inexplicably change into someone - some_thing_ - else...and how understanding must have slammed into her, all at once and yet far too late to be of any use...

And for not the first time, the Diva Search winner found herself wondering if these black holes in her memory, these losses of time and sensation, were both a curse _and_ a blessing; the worst form of torture...and at the same time, some semblance of mercy.

She would probably never remember what had happened within those ropes...and because of that, she would also never forget.

Ashley drew in a deep shaky breath, the act of doing so almost as painful as walking. Slowly, with movements that still didn't quite feel like her own, she glanced over at Trish. The Canadian beauty had both of her arms wrapped around the rookie Diva, bolstering her up and pulling her relentlessly forward at the same time. Her pretty face was set in an expression of grim determination, and the light in her green eyes was almost challenging, as though daring anyone to so much as question why she was supporting her protege.

To be honest, Ashley was wondering just that, but the Diva Search winner kept her mouth shut. Partly because she was too exhausted to argue...but also partly because she suspected that Trish's show of support was just as much to convince herself as it was everyone else.

The pair ground to a halt; Ashley noted with a flicker of dull comprehension that they had arrived at the women's locker room. The Women's Champion looked over at her, her emerald irises filled with concern...as well as a hint of involuntary suspicion. "Are you...going to be..._okay_?" she asked cautiously.

With effort, the rookie Diva nodded, her head feeling too heavy for her neck. "Yeah..." she replied after a long moment, her voice low and thick.

It was a lie, and both of them knew it, but Trish said nothing further. Instead, she maneuvered the two of them toward the door, nudging it open with her foot and shoulder. The Women's Champion paused, casting her gaze down toward the floor for a second or two. "Listen..." she began, spitting out the words with only the tiniest bit of effort. "Mickie, 'Ria, and I...we're going to be staying together tonight - so if you want to...join us...you're more than welcome to."

Her eyes lifted up toward Ashley's again, the faintest flicker of desperate hope in their green depths...and the Diva Search winner suddenly realized that, in her own way, Trish was trying to say that she was sorry. She might never utter the words themselves - Ashley suspected that her pride would never allow it - but it was clear that the Canadian beauty had finally grasped tonight that whatever was happening to her protege was bigger than either one of them...and was trying, in whatever small way she could, to make it better.

In spite of herself, the rookie Diva felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips. "I'll think about it..." she murmured. Grabbing hold of the door frame for support, she stepped into the room - and immediately froze.

Randy sat on one of the benches at the far end of the room, elbows on knees, hands folded together, head bowed as though he was praying. In front of him, a monitor silently displayed the Raw broadcast, which had now moved on to a bout between Chris Masters and Viscera.

At the sound of Ashley's footsteps, he looked up, his muscular frame tensing at the sight of the Diva Search winner. He hadn't shaved recently - a day's growth of stubble clung to his cheeks and chin - and there was a haunted vacant look in his azure irises.

Ashley could remember a time - it didn't seem possible that it had been only a few months ago - when she had once looked into the Legend Killer's eyes and had no clue what he was thinking or feeling. Now...she could see everything; every emotion, worry, or fear visibly etched into the strong lines of his face - and somehow, that scared her even more...because it meant that Randy was no longer in control.

And if he wasn't in control...then what chance did either one of them have for survival?

The rookie Diva took a few more cautious steps into the room, her physical pain eclipsed by overwhelming emotion. She wasn't even aware that Trish hadn't followed her in until she heard the door click shut softly behind her. Ashley flinched a little at the sound, but her gaze never wavered from the third-generation Superstar. She crossed both arms over her torso, hugging herself. "Hey," she murmured; her voice sounding hollow, weak.

Randy stood, shoving both hands into his pockets, biting his lower lip. "Hey," he echoed, his tone as emotionless as hers.

The Diva Search winner flicked her gaze toward the floor, peering at the world through her eyelashes. "I take it...that you saw...my match." It was the most stupidly pointless thing that she could have said...but at the same time, it was the _only_ thing she _could _say.

To this, the Legend Killer said nothing; only nodded slowly. Ashley looked away for a second or two, biting her lower lip before turning her focus back toward Randy. "Then...you know...what's inside me." She took a single step forward. "What it's capable of."

Still nothing; merely another nod. There was something infuriating about his silence - about the way he was acknowledging her words without _really _acknowledging them - and the rookie Diva felt hot tears course down her cheeks as something inside her abruptly snapped. "So then - why are you here?" Her tone was harsher than she had intended, but Ashley was too drained and upset to care. "Why are you in the same room with me? Why are you even within _fifty yards_ of me after seeing what I can do?"

"Ash..." Randy's voice was soft, but there was a misery laced through it that mirrored her own. He moved toward her, holding out both hands imploringly. "That...that wasn't _you_-"

"Wasn't it?" The Diva Search winner's tone was bitter and filled with only the barest trace of sarcasm. She held up her hands, displaying the gauze bandages wrapped around her bruised and torn knuckles. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned, _I'm _the one who beat the _shit _out of Candice and Torrie! _I'm _the one who choked out Lita! And it doesn't really matter what you and I know to be true - because if you rewind the tape, _I'm _the one you see in that ring, not _him_!"

The rookie Diva drew in a deep shaky breath, letting her arms sag back down to her sides. She could feel the faint tickle of tears dripping off her chin. "He's the lucky one, you know?" Her voice was a resigned whisper. "He gets to do...whatever he wants...and in the end...he gets to leave - while _I'm _the one who has to _stay_ and deal with the consequences of what he's done." She paused. "What..._we've_...done."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Randy take another step toward her. Instantly, Ashley backed away, widening the space between them. "No! Stay _away_ from me!" As soon as the words left her mouth, the Legend Killer halted, his handsome features crumpling in anguish.

Just seeing him like that, looking as lost as she felt, almost caused the Diva Search winner to break down crying again, but she grimly held it together; _forced_ herself to with every ounce of energy she still possessed. "Don't you _get_ it?" There was no accusation in her tone; only pleading. "First Candice and Torrie, now Lita...but what about _next _time? What if, next time, it's someone I _care _about? Like Trish, or 'Ria, or..."

Her throat abruptly closed, and it was only with the profoundest effort that she was able to force out the remainder of the sentence: "...or _you_?"

Something akin to horror flickered across Randy's face, and in spite of the distance the rookie Diva had imposed between them, he moved toward her. "Ash, don't even _say _something like that-"

"Why shouldn't I?" Ashley shot back. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it! Don't _tell_ me you're not wondering if there's ever going to be a night when we're lying in bed together - and all of a sudden, I'm not _me_ anymore...but _him_!"

She backed up even further, until her hip collided painfully with the edge of the wooden shelves. "I _do_," the Diva Search winner whispered brokenly. "I think about it all the _time_...and it scares the hell out of me." She sagged against the shelves, sinking down to somewhere halfway between a sitting and a standing position, resting her head against the wood as she stared vacantly at the Legend Killer.

Randy bowed his head, and Ashley thought she saw his Adam's apple jump as he swallowed hard. He reached up, pressing one hand against his forehead - and all of a sudden, the rookie Diva heard him speak, the syllables drifting through the void of silence between them, his deep voice completely and utterly devoid of confidence: "If you had known...from the beginning...from the first day we met...that it was going to turn out like this-"

The third-generation Superstar looked up, the anxiety and the dejection in his blue eyes so palpable that Ashley could feel the weight of it pressing against her skin. "...would you still have chosen me instead of Matt?"

Ashley didn't think, _couldn't _think; any remaining ability to cogitate was more or less shot at this point. But yet, she wasn't concerned...because somehow, she knew that the singular syllable that emerged from her lips was springing from emotions more primal and deeply rooted than thought or logic.

"_Yes_."

For one instant, one single heartbeat, neither one of them moved. Then Randy broke the stillness, closing the distance between them, pulling her roughly against him as he kissed her, his lips crushing hers almost hard enough to bruise.

He lifted her up against the shelves, and Ashley felt the sharp square edge dig even harder into her spine. The rookie Diva let out a soft cry that was half pain, half pleasure; inhaling the overwhelming haze of sensations as though they were oxygen. The scrape of stubble against her skin as Randy slid his lips down to her neck. The light caressing touch of his hands against her bare torso as he held her close. The waves of heat emanating from his body, penetrating the layers of clothing separating them-

All coherent thought abruptly ceased as Randy's fingers slid into her underwear, stroking the most intimate part of her anatomy...and then, for a little while at least, all that mattered was the two of them.

* * *

Matt swung his legs over the side of the loading dock, his eyes drifting closed. The SmackDown taping had just started, but from back here, at the rear of the arena, the explosions of the pyro and the roars of the excited fans were barely audible.

Of course, some of the stillness could probably be attributed to his own lack of sensation; the deadening haze that now seemed to follow him wherever he went. It was, as though, when the Undertaker had drawn him into the darkness and made him an offer too tempting to refuse, a barrier had clamped down around him, severing him from the rest of the world.

After a week, though, Matt was starting to grow accustomed to his sudden absence of feeling - there were times when he almost liked it. There was something very seductive about apathy, about the way it pulled everything into sharp focus...and more than once in the past seven days, the elder Hardy brother had found himself wondering how many stupid decisions he could have avoided if he'd relinquished himself to the emptiness sooner.

Matt opened his eyes, casting his gaze down toward the cell phone resting in his lap. So then...why was he hesitating? Why, when faced with the opportunity to regain what he had lost, was some part of him still digging its heels in and resisting? Was it some faint reverberation of half-remembered emotion that was holding him back?

Or was it fear - fear that, when all this was over and Ashley was returned to him, that same emotion would come rushing back in, reverting him back to the foolish pathetic hothead he had once been?

The elder Hardy brother stiffened, his skin involuntarily prickling up into goosebumps. There had been no movement, not the slightest sound...and yet he could tell, from the subtle shift in air molecules, from the way the shadows behind him seemed to coagulate and densify, that he was no longer alone.

_**What are you waiting for?**_

In spite of himself, Matt flinched as the Deadman's harsh drawl echoed through his head. "Nothing..." the elder Hardy brother replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I...I just-"

_**You just...what? You and I...we had an arrangement...boy.**_

"I _know_ that!" The words came out sharper than Matt had intended, and he instantly regretted them. He gestured helplessly with one hand as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "It's just-"

_**Or maybe...you don't love her as much as you claimed.**_

"That's not true!" The elder Hardy brother whipped his head around, his Southern accent little more than a low growl. Night had already fallen, and while the lights from the parking lot provided _some _illumination, they still failed to cast a glow onto the mass of blackness directly behind Matt. Nevertheless, he thought that he could almost make out the silhouette of a tall man, the brim of a hat...

The elder Hardy brother's dark eyes narrowed. "I..._love_...her...more than _anything_."

_**Then do as you promised.**_

Matt felt a rejoinder rising to his lips, but bit it back - to utter it would have been pointless anyway. Instead, the elder Hardy brother turned back around, flipping open his phone, the faint white light of the screen washing over his face. Opening up his address book, he scrolled down through the list of numbers. He didn't have to go very far before he located Ashley's.

For a moment, Matt hesitated, his finger hovering over the "SEND" button. He closed his eyes, the memory of the rookie Diva's voice drifting through his head like the soft rustle of wind through leaves...

_ It was real...it just wasn't enough..._

He pushed "SEND".

* * *

The sound of her cell phone vibrating against the nightstand surface jolted Ashley out of an uneasy sleep. The Diva Search winner sat up, rubbing her eyes drowsily, the evanescent trappings of the dream world already giving way to the familiar ones of Randy's hotel room.

Yawning, she snatched up the electronic device, flipping it open and holding it to her ear without bothering to glance at the caller ID screen. "Hello?"

"Ash?" At the sound of Matt's voice, the rookie Diva froze, her heart plummeting into her stomach before reversing direction and rocketing upward into her throat. For a moment, tangible reality disappeared, and the elder Hardy brother's face materialized in front of her, his countenance very much as it had been the last time they had spoken, full of heartbreak and accusation...

"Ash? Are you there?"

Ashley gave herself a quick shake, jarring her thoughts back to the present. "Yeah, Matt, I'm here." She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her free arm around them. "What's up?" The phony casualness in her voice ground on her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before her ex-boyfriend spoke again. "Listen, bab - I mean, Ash...I've been thinking a lot...about us, about what happened." She heard him take a deep breath. "I know...you're here...with _Randy_-" Was there just the faintest touch of derision in his voice when he mentioned the Legend Killer's name?" -and I was wondering...if you could come to the arena...so we could talk...face-to-face." Another pause, even longer this time. "I just want to...clear the air...between us."

Ashley didn't answer right away; merely gnawed on the edge of her lower lip. After what had happened the last two weeks on Raw, Randy had been reluctant to leave the Diva Search winner alone - the only thing that had convinced him to let her stay at the hotel had been the undeniable fact that bringing her to the arena would have also meant putting her within close proximity to the Undertaker.

And even after that, she had had to _promise_ him that she wouldn't leave this room, and she fully intended to keep that oath.

_But..._this was _Matt_ - and Matt was different. Matt was _safe_ - possibly even _more _safe than the third-generation Superstar. Besides...after what she had done, what she had put him through...she could certainly grant him this one simple request.

She _owed_ him that much.

Randy would probably be upset when he found out; he might even be angry...but he was just going to have to deal with it.

The rookie Diva finally located her voice. "Sure," She unfolded her legs, swinging them over the side of the bed. "Where do you want to meet?"

* * *

Ashley shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her. The mid-December night was brisk and chill, accompanied by an icy wind that cut through her various layers of clothing with the surgical ease of a knife.

Plus, her surroundings weren't exactly alleviating her unease. It was dark back here at the loading docks, the blackness broken up by the occasional sickly yellow orb of a streetlight. Equipment trucks loomed over her off to the side, like shadowy behemoths, their logos indiscernible in the sparse light.

However, the Diva Search winner knew - with the instinct of some inherent sixth sense - that her disquiet wasn't entirely due to the temperature and the environment. There had been..._something_...in Matt's voice when they spoke; something not quite right. Ashley still couldn't put her finger on it...but in the back of her mind, she could hear the faint clang of a tiny alarm bell going off.

_What did you expect?..._the little voice inside her head demanded. _You broke his heart. You were the first girl that he trusted, the first girl that he LOVED, after what Lita did to him...and what did you do? You turned right around and did the exact same thing that she did._

_ So what if he sounds a little funny? You're lucky that he even wants to TALK to you after what you put him through..._

Even though she knew it was pointless, Ashley still opened her mouth to argue - but in the next instant, even the irritating inner voice was silenced by the white-hot bolt of shock that ripped through her as a hand clamped down onto her shoulder.

The rookie Diva shrieked, jerking free and whirling around - her terror giving way to uneasy relief when she saw that it was only Matt. Ashley let her breath out in a shaky sigh, pressing one hand to her chest. She could practically feel her heart pounding into her palm. "Jesus, Matt," she gradually remarked, her voice holding only the slightest quaver. "You scared the shit out of me."

To this, Matt said nothing; only stared back at her wordlessly. The light from the overhead lamps struck his face in such a way that only a portion of his face was illuminated - an eye, a slice of his cheek - leaving the rest in shadow. "I'm sorry," the elder Hardy brother finally replied, his tone dull and unemotional.

Ashley forced a smile onto her face, even though she could still feel her pulse throbbing in her throat. "It's fine," she lied. Swallowing hard, she moved toward Matt. "Listen...could we go somewhere else? This place is giving me the creeps-"

Her voice died off into a surprised squawk as Matt's hand shot out, latching onto her arm and preventing her from going any further. The elder Hardy brother's head turned; the motion strangely unnatural, more like a mechanical movement than a human one. Even in the darkness, Ashley could still see his eyes; like pools of black set within the white of the iris. "I'm sorry," he repeated.

"It's fine-" the rookie Diva started to say, but Matt cut her off. "I'm sorry...that you didn't love me...as much as I loved you."

The elder Hardy brother's mouth twitched, curled up into an odd smile. "But it's okay now. It's okay...because I have a chance. A chance to make everything...the way it was."

As soon as he uttered those words, Ashley felt the temperature inside her body descend sharply into the negative range. There was something _wrong_ in Matt's voice; something that was almost like madness, and just as she was about to ask what he meant by that, another voice broke the silence...one which froze the marrow within her bones.

_**Hello...little girl...**_

The Diva Search winner felt her heart stop. She whirled around, her blue-green eyes bulging in fear, a terrified mewling sound working its way out of her throat as the Undertaker materialized out of the shadows.

Ashley tried to run, but found that she couldn't; Matt still had hold of her arm. The rookie Diva tried to pull herself free. "Matt, let me go! Let me _go_!" Instead of releasing her, however, the elder Hardy brother merely tightened his grip, his fingers sinking into the meat of her arm. Ashley looked toward him pleadingly. "Matt, _please_, let me..."

The final word died in her throat when she beheld the expression on her former boyfriend's face. Instead of horror, or apprehension, or any of the emotions that normally surfaced when one came face-to-face with the Deadman...there was only _awareness, expectation...complicity_.

And in that instant, the full awful realization of what was happening broke over Ashley, and she _understood_. The Diva Search winner felt her face fall; fell her whole body sag. "No..." she whispered, her tone disbelieving. "No...you _didn't_...you _wouldn't_..."

The elder Hardy brother looked at her. For a second, something _shifted_ in his gaze, and Ashley thought she could see the old Matt, the _real_ Matt, staring back at her. "I'm sorry, Ash..." her ex-boyfriend whispered. "I'm so sorry..."

Ashley swallowed hard, clinging with both hands to what little remained of her rationality and her sanity. "So am I," the rookie Diva murmured. "For what I put you through...and for _this_."

Matt's expression didn't even have time to crinkle in puzzlement before Ashley swung her foot up, the toe of her boot connecting squarely with his testicles. Matt's dark eyes widened, he let out a muffled grunt of pain - and then he went down, releasing his hold on her arm in the process.

Ashley didn't pause to see whether or not he was all right, but instead took off running toward the arena. She was in full-on survival mode; her only discernible thought was that she had to make it to the light, where there was safety and noise and _people_...

_**Stop.**_

The rookie Diva abruptly pitched forward, falling face-first onto the ground, her head bouncing sickeningly against the asphalt. She wasn't entirely cognizant of what had just happened; it was as though she had been inexplicably paralyzed from the waist down. She couldn't move her legs - she couldn't even _feel _her legs anymore...and through the fog of dizziness threatening to surround her, she heard footsteps approach her, rapid and relentless - and then a hand gripping a fistful of her hair, brutally yanking her to her knees.

_**Now...you are MINE...**_

Ashley tried to scream, but couldn't; it was as though sound had been stolen from her along with everything. She could feel strands of her hair tearing out by the roots as the Deadman dragged her backward. The Diva Search winner tried to reach up to pry his fingers loose, but found that she was unable to do so. She couldn't move at all; she was a prisoner, locked within her own body.

Off to the side, she could see Matt, still writhing on the ground in pain from the low blow, struggling to push himself into a semi-upright position. With effort, he lifted his head; his eyes met hers, and Ashley could see that the emotions in them were fully _his_, with none of the glassy vacant quality that was the result of the Undertaker's control.

_He can't control both of us_...the rookie Diva realized suddenly. _Whatever power the Deadman has, it's strong...but it's not strong enough to keep both of us under his control at the same time...so if he's focused on me, there's a chance that he's forgotten all about Matt..._

And sucking in a deep breath, Ashley concentrated all of her willpower, the words tearing out of her chest in a panicked shriek: "_Matt_! _Help me_!"

_Smooth move..._the patronizing little voice inside her head whispered meanly. _Maybe you should have thought about this before you kicked him in the balls..._ But then, incredibly, Ashley saw the elder Hardy brother struggle to his pain, pushing aside the overwhelming pain with the same determination that he had once used to win TLC matches.

And then he was loping toward her, hands clenched into fists, his voice a hoarse roar: "I changed my mind! Let her go! Let her _go_-"

His words ended in a choked gurgle as the Undertaker's arm shot out, his fingers locking around the elder Hardy brother's throat. With what seemed like no effort at all, he lifted Matt up until the toes of his shoes dangled off the ground. Matt gagged, his face turning red, then purple, as he struggled to draw air into his body.

Ashley couldn't move; couldn't see the Deadman's face as he spoke...but she would always remember the _voice:_

_**You...are no longer needed. You have served your purpose...boy.**_

With that, the Undertaker hurled Matt backward, with the same ease as a child hurling a rag doll. The elder Hardy brother hit the pavement spine-first, the back of his skull bouncing against the tarmac with an ugly CRACK. His body arched upward for a second or two...then sagged back down as unconsciousness claimed him.

"_Matt-" _Ashley tried to scream, but the Undertaker clamped his other hand over her mouth, reducing the remainder of her cries into muffled whimpers as he dragged her back into the darkness.

Her final thought, before the blackness engulfed her, was: _Randy, please, save me-_

And then...nothing.


	41. Chapter 41: Checkmate

**A/N: YAY for new chapters! This one ended up getting a little intense for me as I was writing it, but that's a good thing, right? Anyway, we're getting down to the nitty-gritty, aren't we? The story's finally starting to wind toward its conclusion-but don't worry! It's not ending yet! Oh, and I apologize for typos; I also end up finishing chapters in the wee hours of the night, when those pesky buggers slip by me. With that...ENJOY! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **thatonechellex, BigRedMachineUK, Viper Cena Fan, Shandy777, halerzxx, AprilGilbert1996, AshleyTheApp, Noraque, 4everY2JLitafan, BritKaneLover, **and **MissMikkiMouse** for all of your AWESOME reviews - they never fail to make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! I love you ALL!**

* * *

Chapter 41: Checkmate

Randy leaned back against the gray padded wall of the elevator car, the breath leaving him in one long exhausted sigh. He felt completely and utterly drained, his body laced with an almost painful fatigue that made him want to crawl into bed and sleep for about a week.

The weariness wasn't surprising - the Legend Killer normally felt this way after a SmackDown taping; the cumulative result of nonstop traveling and performing. But on this particular night, it was more than just physical lethargy weighing him down - Randy felt mentally drained as well, as though the ability to cogitate and rationalize had been sucked out of him, too.

But then again...he'd had one _hell_ of an evening.

Randy couldn't remember precisely _when_ it had happened; could only recall the feeling itself - that overwhelming miasma of dread and terror that had inexplicably tamped down over him, deafening his senses and nearly smothering him. There was no way to accurately describe it - it was like a kind of primal panic; like every irrational childhood fear and nightmare rolled into a big ball.

He wasn't sure how long the smothering sensation held him in its grip - it seemed like hours - but when it finally dissipated, his limbs had felt weak and watery, he could feel icy oily perspiration dripping down his face...and in that initial moment of returning comprehension, he had _known_, with a sort of terrible awareness, that something was very, _very_ wrong.

Randy's first instinct had been to call Ashley; the phone had actually been in his hand before he managed to stop himself. Right now, the rookie Diva was already jumping at shadows, flinching at noises, that dull haunted look never leaving her blue-green irises. It killed him to see her like that; to see the fire and personality that had attracted him in the first place ebb away bit by bit, replaced by mute shell-shocked terror.

And it killed him even more...knowing that _he_ was to blame; that _his_ cowardice and stupidity were the reason the Diva Search winner was teetering next to him on the brink of Hell.

It was a miracle that she loved him. It was a miracle that, after everything that had happened, Ashley still had any faith in him at all - and Randy was not about to diminish what little remained by worrying her unnecessarily. So he had put the phone away, read over his portion of the script, mentally rehearsed his plan of attack - all the while trying to ignore the fact that every fiber of his intuition, his _instinct_, was screaming.

Oddly enough, when the time had come for him for actually stand face-to-face with the Undertaker in the middle of the SmackDown ring - _that_ was when the third-generation Superstar had been the least afraid. To Randy, it had been a reminder that behind all the voices and the dreams and the strange occurrences, it was still a _man_ who would be locked inside the cage with him on Sunday.

There might be darkness coursing through the Deadman...but what it held together was still comprised of skin and bone and sinew. And _blood_, as Randy had proved when he cracked a steel chair over the Undertaker's skull, splitting the tall man's head open.

The Legend Killer wasn't sure how many times he had hit the Phenom with the chair - only that he had stopped once the Deadman had been reduced to a crumpled bleeding heap on the canvas, possessing barely enough strength to pull himself up to the bottom rope...and that with each blow, he had felt some small measure of his old confidence, his old arrogance, his old _power_, return to him.

Walking back up that ramp, an expression of intense determination etched on his handsome face, ignoring the cacophony of boos and jeers emanating from the crowd - he had almost felt like his old self. So then...what exactly had compelled him to look back? Was it arrogance, the chance to steal one last satisfied glance at the destruction he had wrought on the Phenom? Or was it doubt?

Randy didn't know - doubted that he ever _would_ know for certain - but regardless of the reason, what he _had _seen when he glanced back at the ring over his shoulder had been enough to drain away all of his newfound confidence and courage.

The Undertaker was still half-laying on the canvas, his tattooed arms hanging limply over the bottom rope. However, his green eyes were fixed on the Legend Killer, and despite the distance between them, Randy had felt the unadulterated intensity in their emerald depths rushing toward him like a wall of flame...and though it was hard to discern through the veil of blood, he could have sworn that the Deadman was _smiling_.

Everything after that had dissolved into a blur - the walk back to gorilla, the few congratulatory words from his father and the Animal, the cold glares and pointed silence from everyone else. He couldn't remember changing into street clothes; he couldn't even remember the drive back to the hotel - all that mattered was getting back to Ashley.

In the back of his mind, the Legend Killer was vaguely aware that he was overreacting; building an assumption around nothing more than a glorified gut feeling. But Randy didn't much care. He would accept being called crazy - the word pretty much summed up the WWE roster's view of him - right now, all he wanted was to feel Ashley's slender body pressed against his; to bury his hands in the heated weight of her long blond hair and drink in the soft scent of her skin.

_That _was what mattered; the only thing that had _ever_ mattered to him. _That _was the only remedy for this feeling in his stomach - this throbbing node of uneasiness that, with every passing second, was growing more and more acute.

The elevator car ground to an abrupt halt, the doors sliding back with a soft _hiss_ of hydraulics. Pushing himself up, the third-generation Superstar stepped out and turned left, walking swiftly down the hall, his azure irises fixed on the last door on the right. Randy dug out his wallet, flipping it open and pulling out his room key card.

As he did so, one final notion occurred to him - the thought that _this_, this _war_ between him and the Phenom, was nothing more than an extended chess game; their various encounters and bouts moves on the checkered board. And while Randy's attacks might have incapacitated the Undertaker physically, the Deadman's counteroffensives had been primarily psychologically...and ultimately, more devastating.

Tonight's assault - it had been the Legend's Killer's final move before the Hell in a Cell match on Sunday...now it was time to wait for the Undertaker to make his.

Randy jammed the card into the slot, waiting until the light flashed green before extracting it. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the handle, pushing it down and shoving the door open.

The room was empty.

For a moment, the third-generation Superstar stood there in the doorway, blinking stupidly. He brought his hands up, clenching them into fists and rubbing his eyes vigorously before looking again. Unfortunately, the sight that greeted him was still the same - the room was there, but Ashley wasn't.

Randy stepped cautiously into the space, the door swinging softly shut behind him. He glanced into the bathroom, but it was dark, and even after he had snapped on the lights, a quick peek inside told him that the rookie Diva wasn't in there, either.

The Legend Killer moved further into the room, his gait becoming unsteady, almost stumbling; his blue eyes frantically scanning every surface of the chamber. Ashley's suitcase was still leaning against the wall next to his, her cosmetics still littered the top of the dresser, the covers on one side of the double bed were pushed back as though someone had been sleeping there - but of the Diva Search winner, there was no sign. It was as though she'd vanished into thin air.

Randy wasn't sure what went through his mind during those few agonizing moments - other than pure blind panic. With numb fingers, he pulled out his cell phone, flipping it open, scrolling through his address book to Ashley's number more out of muscle memory than any sort of conscious action. Holding the phone to his ear, he gave the room another rapid scan, gritting his teeth as Ashley's cell rang once, twice.

"Damnit, Ash, pick up your _phone_," the third-generation Superstar muttered fiercely under his breath. Through the tiny speaker, he heard the phone ring a third time. A fourth. A brief silence followed, then: _Hi, this is Ashley Massaro. Leave a message..._

"_Shit_!" Randy snapped the phone closed, clutching it in his fist as he ran his other hand through his close-cropped brown hair. He whirled around, his mind already scrambling to figure out what he should do next...and that's when he saw the note.

It was written on a sheet of hotel stationary, taped to the mirror at approximately his eye level - he probably would have noticed it right off if he hadn't come barreling into the room like a crazed bull. The Legend Killer stepped closer, reaching up and tugging it free - that action proved to be slightly harder than anticipated; the note was stuck to the mirror with a wad of chewing gum - his azure irises studying the hastily scribbled words:

_Randy,_

_Don't be mad, but I went to see Matt. I'll be back later._

_Love,_

_Ashley_

The third-generation Superstar stared at the note for a long moment before slowly crumpling it up in his fist. Part of him knew that he should be relieved; that despite his initial panic, there was a rational explanation for Ashley's absence. But the Legend Killer didn't feel better - if anything, the feeling was worse.

Part of it was straight-up testosterone-fueled jealousy - regardless of the way things had eventually turned out, Matt would always be Randy's romantic rival; he would always be the one that had had Ashley first.

But there was more to his consternation than alpha male instincts - and it had to do with the elder Hardy brother's strange behavior over the last week. His blank expression, his long periods of silence, the flat emptiness of his dark eyes whenever you looked directly into them...

Randy didn't think that Matt was capable of actually _hurting_ Ashley - but then again, a few months ago, he hadn't thought that Matt was capable of hitting Lita with a Twist of Fate, either.

And if the elder Hardy brother had already snapped once...then who was to say that he couldn't snap again?

A fleeting countenance of horror flitted across the Legend Killer's face, and he bolted toward the door, yanking it open and dashing out into the hall. As he headed for the elevator, he pulled out his cell again, flipping it open and scrolling through to a different number. Holding the phone to his ear, he jabbed the "DOWN" button with his index finger.

The phone on the other end rang a few times before it picked up, followed by the low gruff voice of Batista: "Yo, man, what's up?"

"I need your help," Randy paused for a second, gnawing on his lower lip as he waited for the elevator car to arrive at his floor. "Ashley's gone."

The World Heavyweight Champion's response was immediate and indignant: "She's not _here_-"

"I _know_ that, douchebag," The Legend Killer rolled his eyes. His friendship with the Animal went all the way back to their Evolution days, but sometimes Dave's tendency to think with his dick annoyed the piss out of him. "I don't know _where_ she is...but I know who saw her last - and I need you to help me find him."

He heard Batista let out what sounded like a low humorless chuckle. "Let me guess - she went back to the ex-boyfriend."

"Something like that,"_ Why the fuck was this elevator taking so long_? Randy stabbed the "DOWN" button a second time, then a few more times for good measure.

The World Heavyweight Champion sighed heavily. "Look, man, it's late - and I'm a little busy at the moment-"

Right on cue, Randy heard a feminine voice interject in the background. "Dave? Who're you talking to?" Despite the tinny quality of the speakers, the Legend Killer had no trouble recognizing it as that of A-list tag team MNM's manager, Melina.

In spite of the current situation, the third-generation Superstar felt a wry smile touch the corners of his mouth. _Looks like the town bicycle and the town bicyclist finally found one another..._

The Animal was speaking again: "-just give her a few hours; women are weird like that-"

"_Look_," Randy interrupted roughly, his voice harsh and hoarse with emotion. The directive worked - he could almost hear the sound of Batista's mouth snapping shut. With effort, the third-generation Superstar went on. "I've _never_ asked you for _anything_, all right? Not for favors - not even for a _title shot_!"

The Legend Killer halted long enough to draw in a deep ragged breath. "Well, now_..._I'm asking for your help - and _believe me_, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think... that something was _really_ wrong."

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone - and then gradually, the World Heavyweight Champion heaved another heavy sigh. "All right, man - give me twenty minutes..."

* * *

It ultimately took almost forty-five, but the Animal pulled through - somehow, he was able to find out not only what hotel the elder Hardy brother was staying at, but the room number at well.

That was how the Legend Killer found himself standing outside the door to Room 301, trying to think straight through the deafening pounding in his head. During the indeterminable time he had spent pacing outside his hotel, he had tried in vain to reach Ashley again, but each time, was unable to progress any farther than her voice mail message. And as his anxiety and worry multiplied and quadrupled...so did his rage, until his whole body felt as though it had been set ablaze.

He didn't know what was going on - and in the back of his mind, he was aware that he was quite possibly blowing this all out of proportion...but if there was even the _slightest_ chance that the elder Hardy brother had hurt Ashley...then there would be hell to pay.

Pressing his lips together in a thin line, the third-generation Superstar raised his fist, pounding furiously on the closed door. He paused, listened - and hearing nothing, repeated the action with even more force.

This time, he heard an irritated groan emanate from within, followed by a sleepy male voice growling: "Jesus _fuck_!" There was the faint creak of bedsprings, followed by the soft pad of footsteps as the owner of the voice made his way slowly to the door. "One in the _fucking _morning - who the fuck could _possibly_-"

The door opened, and Shannon Moore peered out, his voice fading away into silence as he saw the seething Legend Killer standing outside his room. The Resident Reject's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What're _you _doing here?"

Without taking his eyes off the other man, Randy nodded his chin in the direction of the room. "He in there?"

Shannon's brow creased in bewildered confusion. "Huh? What? Who?"

"Don't fucking play games with me - _is he in there_?" Without waiting for an answer, the third-generation Superstar shouldered past the cruiserweight, pushing his way into the room, shooting one hand out to snap on the overhead light.

Shannon could only stand there in stunned disbelief, his mouth hanging open as he watched the Legend Killer move into the main area. "Hey, _what the hell_, man-"

Randy wasn't listening - all of his attention was focused on the occupied twin bed; on the familiar head of curly black hair poking out from beneath the covers. The Legend Killer's lip curled back from his teeth, and he strode toward the bed, grabbing Matt's shoulder and shaking him violently. "Wake up, _Matthew_,"

Instead of doing so, the elder Hardy brother merely rolled over onto his back, moaning quietly in the back of his throat. His features were creased with pain, as though he was still half in the grip of some horrible nightmare.

Behind him, Randy could hear the tentative plod of Shannon's feet. "Hey," the Resident Reject interjected hesitantly. "Leave him alone - he's been really messed up tonight-"

Randy barely heard him, however; all he could hear was the blood pounding in his head. Without warning, he slapped the elder Hardy brother hard across the face, the sound of the blow ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot.

Shannon gasped; Matt merely squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, then slowly opened them, peering sleepily up at the third-generation Superstar. Instantly, puzzled recognition flashed across his face. "Holy shit," the elder Hardy brother whispered. "It's _you_-"

"Yeah, motherfucker, it's me," the Legend Killer interrupted roughly. He leaned down, until his nose was practically touching Matt's, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "_Where is she_?"

Matt said nothing; merely stared mutely back at him - and in the depths of his soul, Randy felt the remainder of his self-control give way.

Snarling, he grabbed the elder Hardy brother by the collar of his shirt, yanking him bodily out of bed and throwing him onto the floor. The impact drove all the air from Matt's lungs, but Randy didn't stop there; without relinquishing his grip, he lifted the other man up, then slammed him back down onto the floor. "_Where is she_?" the third-generation Superstar growled.

Matt could only gasp for breath, but the Legend Killer was relentless; lifting the elder Hardy brother up, he slammed him down again, even harder this time. "_Where is she_?" he repeated, spitting the words out through clenched teeth. "_Where's Ash_?"

He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as Shannon shifted uncomfortably. "Listen, man," the Resident Reject began bravely. "If you don't get out of here right now - I'm gonna call the cops-"

"Call whoever the _fuck_ you want!" Randy spat. His blue eyes were still fixed on Matt. "I'm not leaving until this piece of shit tells me what I want to know!" He punctuated his last word with another slam. "_Where is she_?"

"I-" Matt's eyes were glazed and unfocused; it was a wonder he was even able to speak. "I...don't know-"

"_Bullshit_!" Instantly, the elder Hardy brother tensed, clearly anticipating another slam, but the Legend Killer instead leaned down, so close that drops of his saliva splattered against the other man's cheek. "How could you not know where she is - she went to see _you_-"

"I don't _know, _I _swear_!" Matt's words dissolved into a fit of coughing, and several seconds elapsed before he was able to regain enough control to resume speaking. His dark irises met Randy's, glassy with pain...and fear. His lips moved, his voice so soft it was practically inaudible: "_I couldn't stop it_-"

Before the Legend Killer could ask what the hell he meant by _that_, his cell phone went off, startling him. Randy immediately releasing his grip on the elder Hardy brother and sat up, digging the electronic device out of his pocket and studying the readout screen.

_ASHLEY_

The third-generation Superstar immediately felt relief flood through his body. Without looking at Matt, he flipped the phone open, holding it to his ear. "Jesus, Ash, you scared the shit out of me. Where _are_ you-"

_**Orton.**_

At the sound of the _voice_, Randy felt the world around him screech to a halt - his heart literally stopped within his chest. The Legend Killer licked his lips, trying to force words out of a mouth that had gone inexplicably bone-dry, his voice a quavering, almost childlike whisper:

"..._Taker_?"

There was a pause, then the _voice _spoke one more time, spitting out three syllables with the finality of a death knell:

_**I have her.**_

The line went dead.

The phone slipped from Randy's numb fingers, thudding softly against the floor. The Legend Killer didn't notice; his heart had started beating again - only it was fast, much too fast; thudding so rapidly he was sure it would explode.

Slowly, feeling like an alien creature trapped within an unfamiliar body, Randy looked down at Matt. The elder Hardy brother had managed to struggle up to his elbows, still trying to regain his breath. "I couldn't stop it," he repeated, and Randy noticed for the first time the bruises on his throat; the dark marks that could have only come from fingers. "I couldn't stop _him_."

His eyes met the Legend Killer's, their dark depths radiating anguish...and guilt. "He _took_ her..." the elder Hardy brother whispered brokenly. "_She was screaming-"_

Randy didn't hear the rest; he was too busy running to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up, the contents of his stomach splashing the sides of the porcelain bowl in a hot sour stream. He vomited until there was nothing left; until he was doing nothing more than dry-heaving up foul-tasting globules of bile. Spitting the last of these out, he pressed the handle to flush, then sagged back against the adjacent wall, sweat pouring down his face, involuntary tears leaking from his eyes.

He had her. The Undertaker had Ashley. The one thing he had hoped would _never_ happen, _had_ happened...and now, he didn't know what to do. What good was all of his ability, all of his strength, all of his _cunning_ - when the Phenom had the one thing, the one _person_, who meant _anything_ to him?

And in that one single insane second, the Legend Killer realized that it really _was_ just like chess - that sometimes, you had to appear to lose in order to win. _That _was why the Undertaker hadn't fought back; why he had let the third-generation Superstar beat him half to death with a steel chair. He had _allowed_ himself to be sacrificed...because he _knew_ that he had already taken Randy's queen.

Randy groaned, leaning his head back against the wall. What did it matter - what did _any_ of this metaphysical bullshit matter? The Undertaker had _Ashley_, and he didn't know what to do, _he didn't know what to do_-

_Yes, you do_...

The Legend Killer flinched as the voice reverberated through his head. He didn't know how to explain it; it was as though someone had given him a mental slap, hard enough to knock the vertigo and the self-pity right out of him. He wasn't sure of its origin - perhaps it was what little remained of his common sense...or his sanity.

Either way, Randy didn't try to fight it; merely sat there as the idea washed over him. Unlikely, certainly. _Insane_, most definitely. But he had to _try_...because this was _Ashley_.

Because Ashley saw something in him; something which everyone else assumed was long gone. Because when he was with her, he actually felt like he was _worth_ something_. _Because she deserved much more than a coward.

And because he loved her. He loved her more than anything.

Slowly, holding onto the wall for support, the Legend Killer rose to his feet. His legs felt weak and shaky, and glancing in the mirror, he saw a pale gaunt ghost staring back at him. The inside of his mouth tasted terrible.

However, Randy mentally shoved all of this aside. His feet only needed to carry him as far as the car, and there were breath mints in the glove compartment. Besides...he couldn't afford to waste any more time.

Closing his eyes for a second, the third-generation Superstar took a deep breath, then let it back out. Carefully, he made his way out into the main room.

By now, Matt had made it up onto the edge of the bed, assisted by Shannon. The Resident Reject looked up as the Legend Killer emerged, his expression tightening a touch. "I don't care which one of you it is," the SmackDown cruiserweight declared. "But does someone want to tell me what the _hell _is going on?"

"No time," Randy replied. He swallowed hard. "I have to go."

Without offering so much as an apology, he turned, opening the door and exiting out into the hall.

* * *

Randy was halfway to the elevators when he heard the door open, followed by the rapid thud of Matt's footfalls as the elder Hardy brother chased after him. "What're you _doing_?" the SmackDown Superstar called out.

The third-generation Superstar didn't turn around. "What do you _think_?" he retorted sharply. "I'm gonna get her back."

He heard the footsteps stop suddenly. "W-_what_?" Matt stammered. "You-you don't even know where she is-"

To this, the Legend Killer looked back, favoring the elder Hardy brother with a cold stare. "I know that," he replied slowly, with only the slightest hint of sarcasm. "That's why I'm going to Stamford."

Matt blinked stupidly in surprise. "_Stamford_? You mean..._Connecticut_?"

Randy nodded. "It can't be more than a few hours away - I figure if I start now, I'll be there before dawn." He turned around, resuming his trek toward the elevators.

"But...but-" Matt's legs were shorter than Randy's, and it was difficult keeping up with the Legend Killer's relentless pace. He finally reached the third-generation Superstar's side at the bank of elevator, panting a little for breath. "I don't...understand," he managed to get out between gasps. "What's in Stamford?"

Randy didn't answer at first; only reached out to press the "DOWN" button. "Someone who knows more about this sort of thing than I do," he eventually replied after a long moment had passed.

Randy paused, closing his eyes as Ashley's face flitted across his memory: her eyes, her smile... Then as he stood there, lost in the haze of recollection, the rookie Diva's features shifted slightly...transforming into that of Stephanie McMahon.

The Legend Killer's eyes drifted open. "Someone...who might be able to help."


	42. Chapter 42: Some Unholy War

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I know, I know, I can see the date for myself - it's been a very long time since I've updated. The reason for that is this: I'm currently working on a screenplay, one which involves thirteen (fictional) deaths, and one which pretty much sucks out a little more of my soul every time I work on it or Skype with my producer about it. So, to deal with that, I work on my FF for fun, but because I'm so fried, I've only been updating the stories that I'm really inspired about - which, recently, has been only my AU story. It wasn't until one of my lovely readers asked me via Twitter when I was going to update THIS story again that I decided to pull this chapter out of the cobwebs of my mind and get back to work on it. Now, that lengthy explanation aside, I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize for typos - it's 3AM over here, and my brain stopped giving a damn about an hour ago.**

**Thank you to **Shandy777, BigRedMachineUK, xgoneforwords, Viper Cena Fan, AprilGilbert1996, AshleyTheApp, Aly, anon, **and **dakota **for reviewing! You know that I love you ALL! Really! Truly! Hugs for everyone! PEACE!**

* * *

Chapter 42: Some Unholy War

Randy leaned back against the cracked red vinyl cushion of the diner booth, staring dully out the window at the first faint fingers of daylight working their way upward behind the Stamford skyline. His mind, however, wasn't on the eatery, or his destination, or even the untouched cup of coffee in front of him - his sixth since his arrival - but rather, on Ashley.

It didn't seem possible that almost twelve hours had elapsed since he had last seen the Diva Search winner; since he had kissed her before leaving his hotel room for the SmackDown taping. Since then, he'd replayed their last encounter a million times in his mind, reducing it to the fragmented haze of sight and sensation that all treasured memories seem to consist of. He could no longer recall what he had said before leaving, or even what the rookie Diva had been wearing - but he could still remember the warm softness of her lips beneath his as he kissed her...or the look of fearful hope he had glimpsed glimmering in her blue-green irises before he had pulled the door closed.

He had called his father on the road, during the hour-plus drive from Massachusetts to Connecticut. The Hall of Famer hadn't said much - when confronted with a situation like _this_, there wasn't much that you _could_ say - but Randy could still recall one particular statement, uttered toward the tail end of their brief conversation:

_Don't blame yourself, son...he would have found a way to take her no matter what you did..._

The Legend Killer felt a humorless smile touch the corners of his mouth. Not blaming himself - that was an act of will that somehow seemed to be constantly beyond his reach. Assuaging this enormous ball of guilt and shame within himself was like trying to empty the Pacific Ocean with a sieve - impossible and ultimately useless.

Forgiving himself wouldn't change anything - not the things he had done, or what had happened to Ashley - and it _certainly_ wouldn't bring her back. Better to wallow in self-reproach, then. Better to play back their last meeting over and over again, trying to pick out the one thing he should have said or done differently - the single missed nuance or forgotten deed that, like one loose thread in a square of knitted fabric, had allowed the entire situation to unravel.

"Tell me again what we're doing here."

The third-generation Superstar gritted his teeth as Matt's voice cut across his thoughts, the sound of it as irritatingly obtrusive as the persistent whine of a gnat. The elder Hardy brother had jumped in the passenger seat as Randy had been about to leave the hotel parking lot, announcing tersely that he was coming along, too. Though the Legend Killer would have rather had his appendix removed with a butter knife than share an automobile interior with Matt Hardy, he had been too tired and too focused on the task ahead of him to really argue.

It had been the longest car ride he had ever endured, the tense hostile silence between the two men stretching out each second until it felt like an hour. And although neither of them uttered a word, Randy could still feel the unacknowledged truth lurking in the back seat like an unwanted third presence - the fact that Ashley had been with Matt when she had been taken...and that the elder Hardy brother had failed to stop it from happening.

The third-generation Superstar silently counted to ten before answering - Matt's inanely rhetorical questions and general pessimism were starting to grind on his already-raw nerves. "Because Stephanie _knows_ what it's like to be stalked and kidnapped by the Undertaker - she _knows_ what it's _like_ to have a voice in your head; a presence that you just can't seem to shake."

Randy closed his eyes for a second or two before continuing: "He _took_ her...and yet somehow, she made it out. At the very _least_, she's got to be able to give some perspective - or maybe...just _maybe_...she knows some way to get Ash _back_."

Matt looked down at his plate, nudging the pile of scrambled eggs dejectedly with his fork. "So...what?" the elder Hardy brother replied doubtfully. "You _really_ think that's going to _work_?"

Randy's expression didn't change, but down underneath the table, where Matt couldn't see, he was clenching his fist so hard that it _hurt_ - and in the back of his mind, he was thinking that he would sacrifice it all; he would forfeit every one of those empty victories he had earned in the ring just for _one_ _chance_ to punch the elder Hardy brother in the face and _really mean it_.

The Legend Killer abruptly slammed his fist down on the table. Matt jumped; the dishes and silverware danced, coffee slopping over the side of Randy's cup. The third-generation Superstar's voice was a low growl. "_I don't know_. I don't know if _any_ of this is going to work - but I have to _try_."

He looked over at Matt, his azure gaze as merciless and piercing as twin lasers. "_Anything's_ better...than doing _nothing_."

The elder Hardy brother visibly flinched as the verbal barb dug into him. Randy barely took notice; instead, he rose to his feet, digging out his wallet and tossing a few bills on the scratched tabletop. "Let's go - I want to be there when the building opens."

* * *

When she first arrived at Titan Tower that morning, Stephanie McMahon's only thoughts were on the workday ahead of her.

As Director of Creative Writing for WWE, she was coming off of two grueling eighteen-hour days - the first in Boston for Monday Night Raw, the second in Springfield for SmackDown - and as was customary on a Wednesday morning, part of her just wanted to just crawl under the covers and sleep.

But, just as she always did, Stephanie pushed that little nagging voice back to the deepest darkest part of her subconscious. The upcoming pay-per-view on Sunday meant that she had one less day this week to finish up administrative busywork. Besides...she was a McMahon. This business was in her blood, and no amount of fatigue would ever prevent her from focusing on the task at hand.

The Billion Dollar Princess took a sip from her Starbucks cup, hefting up the stack of paperwork nestled under her other arm. As she neared her office, she spied her administrative assistant, Marjorie, already at her desk and tapping furiously away at her keyboard. The other woman looked up, offering her a smile and a brief wave.

Stephanie returned the smile, pausing in front of her desk. "Hey, Marj! So, what's on the slate for-" Her voice abruptly died in her throat when she saw the two figures sitting outside her office in the small waiting area designated for visitors.

Matt had his arms crossed over his chest, one foot nervously tapping the floor - he looked like a kid who has just been summoned to the principal's office. Randy, on the other hand, didn't move at all - his blue eyes stared vacantly ahead at nothing, and there was a look of such abject misery on his face that Stephanie felt something inside her wrench painfully.

The former SmackDown GM opened her mouth, intending to ask what the two of them were doing here, when the Legend Killer swung his azure gaze in her direction. As soon as he did, she felt the full brunt of his anguish smack her in the face - like the cold wet _slap_ of sodden fabric - and she _knew_; knew with the most dreadful kind of certainty why he was here...because there was only _one_ thing that would bring Randy Orton to her door at this hour of the morning.

Marjorie was speaking - "...they were here when I got here; they've been waiting about an hour-" - but the Billion Dollar Princess barely heard it over the thundering rhythm of her heartbeat. The coffee cup slipped from her hand, the top flying off and dark liquid splashing everywhere. The stack of papers followed suit, plummeting to the floor; white rectangles wafting outward.

Her assistant shrieked, and Matt jumped in his seat, but neither Stephanie nor Randy stirred. The former SmackDown GM felt her lips move, her brain seizing enough control over her vocal cords to spit out only one word: "_Ashley_?"

The Legend Killer nodded, the motion just as forlorn as everything else about him. "_He took her_."

Stephanie sucked in a deep ragged breath. "I _knew_ this was going to happen; I just _knew_-" She stopped, looking away and biting her lip, struggling to blink back the tears that had inexplicably formed in her eyes.

A moment or two passed before she was able to compose herself, and when she spoke, her voice held only the faintest quaver of emotion. "Marj - cancel my meetings this morning." Her pale blue eyes slid back toward Randy, who silently rose to his feet. "There's something...that I need to take care of."

She nodded toward her office, and Randy obliged, stepping inside. Swallowing hard, the Billion Dollar Princess stepped over the pile of coffee-soaked papers, following him and shutting the door behind them.

* * *

"Are you _sure_?" Stephanie's voice was a low flat whisper.

Randy shifted awkwardly in his chair, not because it was uncomfortable - it was actually quite comfy - but because he had never really felt at ease around the Billion Dollar Princess. Stephanie had been General Manager when he had first debuted on SmackDown; to a certain degree, she still _was_ his boss - and even with circumstances being what they were, he still couldn't quite banish the invisible boundaries that lie between employers and employees.

The third-generation Superstar leaned forward, propping his knees up on his elbows. "I got a call - it was from her phone, but it was _his _voice on the other end!" He shook his head. "He has her...he said so himself."

Stephanie was leaning against one of the windows, her cheek pressed to the glass. Her office afforded her an excellent view of the cityscape - but Randy was pretty sure that the scenery was the furthest thing from the former SmackDown GM's mind. She slowly rotated her body around until she was facing Randy, her arms folded over her chest. "So...I'm guessing you're _here_ because...you think that I can help you."

The Legend Killer shrugged, albeit helplessly. "I don't know - Ash told me...about what happened to you." He glanced up expectantly at Stephanie, but she merely nodded for him to continue. Randy nervously cleared his throat. "You were tapped into Undertaker at one point - you still kind of are - and I was thinking...I don't know...maybe you could use that...to find out where Ashley is-"

"Like a two-way radio, you mean?" the Billion Dollar Princess interjected, her voice devoid of irony. Randy shrugged again, his mouth twitching upward in a sheepish grin that vanished just as quickly. Stephanie shook her head, pushing her slender body off the window. "It doesn't work like that - it doesn't go both ways. He can tap into me, but _I can't tap into him_. And even I _could_-"

The former SmackDown GM's voice faltered, a fleeting look of agony drifting across her face. "-I'd probably do more harm than good."

Stephanie turned back around, staring out the window once more. "Right now, the Deadman has Ashley - he knows you're looking for her; he probably even knows that you've come to me for help. So _trust me_ when I say that you _won't_ find her...not until he _wants _her to be found, anyway."

Randy felt something cold and clawed clutch his insides and refuse to let go. "What do you mean?" the Legend Killer whispered, his entire mouth dry. "They found _you_!"

At this, the Billion Dollar Princess looked back over her shoulder, her mouth twisting in a bitter smile. "They _found_ me because the Undertaker carried me out to the ring in the middle of Monday Night Raw strapped to a giant symbol - I was kind of hard to _miss_."

She shook her head again. "If the Deadman wants to you to disappear - you _disappear_. End of story."

Randy couldn't speak at first; he could feel his entire body contracting and trembling. "What...what are you _saying_-"

The former SmackDown GM sighed resignedly, her eyelids drifting closed for a moment. "I'm _saying_...that I can't help you."

"_Can't_?" A note of resentment had crept into Randy's tone, making his deep voice sharper than it had been a second ago. The third-generation Superstar looked up, a little muscle near his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. "_Can't..._or _won't_?"

Across the room, Stephanie's slender figure went stiff, and the Billion Dollar Princess spun around, her pale blue eyes already narrowing suspiciously. "What do you mean by _that_?"

"Oh, _come on_!" Randy rose to his feet. "You forget - I started out on SmackDown; I was _there_ when you were still GM. I _saw _how the two of you were around each other." The Legend Killer lowered his voice, his azure irises boring unflinchingly into Stephanie. "I might have been a dumb rookie kid, but even _I_ could figure out what was going on - the way you'd look at each other, the way you'd forget and call him _Mark_-"

Batista had once joked that Stephanie McMahon could hit the hardest out of any man or woman in the company. Randy, unfortunately, found this out the hard way; in a few furious strides, the Billion Dollar Princess had closed the distance between them, raising her hand and slapping him full-force across the face.

The third-generation Superstar's head snapped sharply to the side; for a moment or two, he actually saw stars. Stephanie jabbed her finger at him, the breath tearing out of her in ragged gasps. "_How dare you_ - what, you think I'm _protecting_ him?"

The former SmackDown GM took a step back, still breathing hard. "Listen to me: the man you're thinking of - the man I called _Mark_ - he's _dead_. Okay? He died when that load of dirt fell on him. The _Undertaker_...he might _look_ like that man...but it's _not him_!"

Stephanie sagged a little, sinking down onto the edge of her desk; her tone, so strident a moment ago, growing softer, more hesitant. "And even if it _was_ - if..._Mark_...was still in there somewhere - I wouldn't protect him. Not after this."

Randy stared at her, and then all of a sudden, his strong features crumpled and he slumped back down in his seat. "You're right - I'm sorry; it's just that..." The Legend Killer leaned forward, burying his face in his hands; his voice, when he spoke, sounded almost near tears. "_I don't know what to do_."

He looked up, peering miserably at the Billion Dollar Princess. "Give me a chair or a bat or a metal pipe - put me in that ring and tell me to go to war...but _this_? I don't know how to deal with _this_."

Randy's azure irises slid to the side, focusing on something that only he could see. "Ash doesn't have anything to do with this - she _never_ had anything to do with this! Why did he have to go after her - why couldn't he go after _me_-"

"Because that wouldn't have hurt you," Stephanie interjected quietly. She straightened up a little, folding her hands in her lap. "'Taker's not a coward, he doesn't want the easy victory - he _wants_ you locked in that cage with him on Sunday. But at the same time...he's _smart_. He wants you scared. He wants you _weak_. So he takes the thing you love most, knowing that it'll wound you, _knowing_ that it'll be the only thing on your mind come Sunday, _knowing_ that, as long as you're in the cage with him, it'll be driving you insane."

The former SmackDown GM stood, walking over to the Legend Killer and hesitantly putting her hand on his shoulder. Randy tensed a little at her touch, but otherwise, did not react. "Even though he doesn't feel, the Deadman understands emotions - he understands that they're the things that make us _weak_. But I don't think he's ever grasped that they're the things that make us strong at the same time."

Stephanie knelt down, bringing her within eye level of the third-generation Superstar. "He _took _something from you - he took _Ashley_ - but he also gave you something to fight for. He gave you a _reason_ to fight. And that's what you have to do - you have to _fight_ - or you will _never_ see her again-"

"What if I'm not strong enough?" Randy's eyes locked onto hers, and Stephanie was struck by how _young_ he looked; how young and utterly lost. "What...if I _lose_?"

The Billion Dollar Princess shook her head vehemently. "You can't think like that. You can't _afford_ to think like that - not if you want to get her back."

A long silence followed her words. Eventually, Stephanie sighed, leaning back on her haunches. "I still don't understand how this _happened_ - I mean, I _saw_ her on Monday. I don't understand how he _found_ her-"

Randy shrugged helplessly. "I don't know - for some reason, she was at the arena..."

His voice faltered, as realization crept into his tone: "...with _Matt_..."

Stephanie said something else, but the Legend Killer barely heard her over the whirl and hum of his mental gears. Thoughts, notions, observations, things that he'd overlooked or misinterpreted or failed to see for what they really were - all of them were coming together in his head, clicking into place with brutal precision, forming a picture that was so grossly incomprehensible it either had to be a crazed hallucination...or the truth.

Matt's odd behavior over the past week; his brooding silences, his vacant gaze.

His demeanor last night - an odd mixture of stark terror and _guilt_.

More than that, what he had _said_; words that had barely registered with Randy until now:

_I couldn't stop it..._

_ He took her..._

_ She was screaming..._

The Legend Killer stood so fast that he knocked the chair over, his face darkening with anger. Stephanie jerked a little, clearly taken aback by this sudden change in demeanor. "Randy? What's..."

Her voice faded away as the third-generation Superstar strode to the door, throwing it open with a BANG.

Matt was still in his seat, half-heartedly flipping through a People magazine; he jumped at the sudden clamor, the periodical slipping from his grip and falling to the floor. He twisted around, his dark eyes widening at the sight of an enraged Randy Orton storming toward him. "Hey, man-"

His words ends in a startled yelp as the Legend Killer grabbed his arm, his fingers digging mercilessly into the meat of his bicep. Yanking him to his feet without ceremony, he dragged the elder Hardy brother down the hall.

* * *

The conference room was empty, early morning sunshine gleaming off the polished surface of the table. It was into this space that Randy practically threw Matt, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass. Snatching up a chair, the Legend Killer wedged it under the door handle.

Matt watched him barricade the door, his mouth agape, his countenance flushed with astonishment and indignation. "What the _hell_, man-"

Once again, he never got to finish the sentence; in one fluid lightning-fast move, the third-generation Superstar crossed the distance between them, grabbing the elder Hardy brother by the shirt collar and jerking him close. His face was twisted in a expression of cold rage that Matt had never seen in _or _out of the ring; the emotions warping his features so that he looked more bestial than human.

The Legend Killer's voice was an emotionless growl: "_Tell me_ that you had nothing to do with this."

Matt frowned in confusion. "Huh? I don't understa-"

"_Tell me_," the third-generation Superstar continued relentlessly "that you had a perfectly good reason for calling her up - that you were just talking things through when the Undertaker suddenly showed up. _Tell me_ that you didn't lure her there so he could _take_ her - and maybe...just _maybe_...I won't rip your goddamn head off."

For several long agonizing seconds, Matt just stared at him, his dark eyes fearfully scanning Randy's face for some indication that the other Superstar was bluffing. No such sign presented itself, however, and the elder Hardy brother finally sighed, sagging a little in the Legend Killer's grip. "It wasn't...supposed to happen this way-"

Randy's countenance abruptly turned ashen, as though all the color had been slapped out of him. "No..." the third-generation Superstar whispered, his voice stunned and halting. "You _wouldn't_-"

Matt, meanwhile, was talking; the words spilling out of him almost too fast to be understood. "-he _told_ me that she was so close to the edge already...one more good scare, and she'd come straight back to me." The elder Hardy brother shook his head. "I _know_ it sounds stupid - but I was _drunk_, and I was _so angry_-"

He stared pleadingly at the Legend Killer. "I didn't want to _hurt_ her - I just wanted her back. I wanted everything to be the way it _was_-" His tone had taken on a sort of whiny beseeching quality, the sound of it as excruciating as nails on the chalkboard. "I didn't know that he would _take _her-"

"What did you _think_ would happen?" Randy roared. "He's the fucking _Undertaker_; nothing good _ever_ comes from dealing with him - _I'm _living proof of that!" He jammed his face into Matt's. "Couldn't you _see_ - how scared she was already-"

"Yeah, and _whose _fault was that?" the elder Hardy brother retorted harshly. His gaze, no longer cowed, bore into Randy's with sullen accusation. "_You_'_re _the one who dragged her into this mess in the first place-"

The Legend Killer felt a jolt course through him, as though a bolt of lightning had entered his body through the top of his head. Everything around him was clear, _too_ clear, each object throbbing with a pulse of energy all its own. And as he stared, speechless with fury, at Matt, he found himself remembering his wish; how he would give _anything_ just to _take one swing_-

Balling his hand up into a fist, the third-generation Superstar swung with all of his strength, the blow catching Matt right in the jaw. There was an ugly cracking sound, and the elder Hardy brother went stumbling backward, landing on the table and sliding briefly across its smooth surface.

In a flash, Randy was on the table as well, straddling Matt and laying into him with closed fist after closed fist. He could barely see; a veneer of blood had tamped down over his vision, reducing everything to shades of red. But the Legend Killer didn't care. He didn't need to _see_ to know where his punches were landing - and _this time_, he was going to finish it. This time, there were no refs, no Teddy Long, no Ashley, to break up the melee - and he was going to keep hitting until the life drained out of Matt's eyes...

Hands grabbed his arms, yanking him back and off the elder Hardy brother. Randy looked around wildly; he was engulfed by what seemed like a small army of security personnel - somehow, they'd managed to break down the door and restrain him. Still, the Legend Killer fought and struggled to free himself from their grasp, lunging toward the other Superstar with everything he had. "_She trusted you_!" He was screaming now, his deep voice echoing off the walls. "_She loved you_!"

"Then why did she leave me?" Matt's voice was thick with effort, broken up by the occasional liquid-y cough. The elder Hardy's face was a mess - blood was leaking from his nose and mouth - but yet, he still managed to glare fiercely at the third-generation Superstar. "She and I were _fine_ before _you_ showed up - you _stole_ her from me-"

Randy shook his head. "I didn't _steal_ her - she _chose _to be with me-"

Matt laughed harshly. "Yeah, and see what _that_ got her!" Still coughing, he rolled over onto his side, using his elbows to push himself up. "Right now, the Deadman's got her because of _you_-"

"No, the Deadman's got her because of _you_!" Randy shot back angrily. "I'm not the one who sold my _soul_ just because I got _dumped_!" He slowly shook his head, staring at the elder Hardy brother with what could have almost been bewilderment. "_You_ ..._you _were supposed to be _safe_. You're supposed to be the _good guy_. She came when you called because she _trusted _you - and you repaid it by handing her over to the Devil. And for _what_? To prove to yourself, to the rest of the roster, that you're not the world's biggest pussy?"

Matt started to speak, but the Legend Killer cut him off. "Lita was _right_ - you _are _pathetic." With that, he spat at the elder Hardy brother, the globule of saliva arching through the air and landing on the table.

With a sudden burst of movement, Randy jerked himself free. The security guards immediately moved to grab him again, but the third-generation Superstar waved them off. "You don't have to worry about me."

His frigid blue eyes locked onto Matt's dark ones once more. "I'm _done_ with this piece of shit." Pushing his way through the thicket of bodies, Randy strode toward the door and exited out into the hall, the team of security guards trailing cautiously behind him.

Silence fell over the conference room. Matt spat out a mouthful of blood, and panting with the effort, sat up. It wasn't until he was semi-vertical again that he realized he wasn't alone; there was another figure standing in the doorway, watching him silently.

Stephanie had her arms crossed over her chest, her pretty face unreadable. Matt sniffed loudly, wiping his bloody nose and mouth on his sleeve. "Steph?" His voice was tentative, quavering with the very last of his bravado. "You understand..._right_?"

"You know," the Billion Dollar Princess interrupted coldly. "I remember, when Austin rescued me, how relieved I was to see my father, the one person I _trusted_, the _only_ person I felt safe around...all the while having no idea that _he_ was the Higher Power manipulating all of us - so _no,_ I _don't_ understand."

She straightened up to her full height, eyeing the elder Hardy brother with obvious anger and disdain. "If I had _known_ that _that_ was the reason why Randy was trying to kill you just now..."

Her lip curled. "...I wouldn't have stopped him."

Without uttering another word, she turned sharply on her heel and headed back toward her office, leaving Matt alone with his excuses...and his guilt.


	43. Chapter 43: Hell Is Love

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Yes, I know - it's been a very long time. I was finishing up another story, then a script, then I got into a social media war and got depressed...you know how it goes. Plus, I had SUCH TROUBLE with this chapter - I seriously spend an hour and a half fussing with two paragraphs. I kind of hate it, but it is what it is, so hopefully, you won't savage it too much. ENJOY! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **worsethanawedgie, Shandy777, VanityMayhem, MySweetSeduction, Viper Cena Fan, xtrippyx3x3, AprilGilbert1996, xXAJSugaSpiceEverythingNiceX x, see-me-clarely, ImSeriousBro, BigRedMachineUK, **and **Guest** for reviewing! I love you ALL! HUGS! LOTS OF HUGS! AND PUPPIES! **

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Chapter 43: Hell Is Love

Ashley slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times as she struggled to differentiate between the dreamless void of unconsciousness and the omnipresent darkness surrounding her. She felt groggy, disjointed, and for a moment, the Diva Search winner couldn't remember where she was; only that she'd been having a very strange dream-

_No_. _Not_ a dream, but rather, the same terrifying sequence of memory replayed over and over again - like a reel of film projecting onto the inside of her skull - the last images she could recall before oblivion had swarmed over her and brought her to this place-

_The unnatural smoothness of the Undertaker's movements as he emerged from the shadows..._

_ The icy chill of his fingers against her scalp as he grabbed hold of her hair..._

_ Those same fingers...clamped around Matt's throat..._

_** You...are no longer needed. You have served your purpose...boy...**_

_ The sickening thump the elder Hardy brother's body made as he was thrown down onto the unforgiving pavement..._

The rookie Diva involuntarily flinched, her limbs twitching as though they, too, had experienced the impact. As she did, she felt the cold metal handcuffs bite into her wrists, chafing against her skin - and all at once, her disorientation evaporated, acute awareness and horror rushing in to take its place as she remembered where she was.

She was in the lair of the Undertaker.

Ashley carefully pulled herself into an upright position, sucking in a sharp pain-filled breath as the rough edge of an iron support beam dug into her whole body was stiff - her neck and back ached, her butt and legs had gone numb from sitting on the concrete floor, her arms were sore from being wrenched back behind her.

The Diva Search winner slowly lifted her head, staring straight ahead with a dull and vacant gaze. She was in what appeared to be a basement or cellar area of some kind: smooth, bare cement walls and floor; no windows or doors that she could see; no light save for a single wall fixture casting a faint reddish glow along one side of the room. It was freezing cold in here, too - despite the gloom, Ashley thought she could see her breath passing between her lips in sporadic bursts of white vapor.

The rookie Diva sagged, her long hair brushing against either side of her face as her chin lolled forward onto her chest. She had no idea how long she'd been here - she kept drifting in and out of consciousness - but more than that, there was something..._unnatural_...about the room itself; a deadening atmosphere within the space that tamped down over her senses like a lead blanket, making it hard to _feel_...and even harder to _think_.

As unsettling as it was, however, Ashley was also grateful for the detachment - because while it disoriented her, it also kept the fear and panic from swooping in and overwhelming her completely. Right now, she was scared, more scared than she'd ever been in her life - and while this desensitized feeling wasn't exactly rationality, it was also the only tenuous buffer between sanity and pure mewling terror-

_**You're awake.**_

The Diva Search winner stiffened as the Undertaker's voice floated up out of the void behind her. She had known he was there, of course - even though she couldn't see him, she could still sense him; an omnipresent shade only slightly darker and more substantial than the shadows surrounding him - but this was the first time he'd spoken since she'd awoken in this place.

As soon as she heard that voice - that flat emotionless tone as inexorable as Death itself - Ashley's first impulse was to beg for her freedom. But before she could actually do so, before she could burst into tears and grovel at the Deadman's feet - the rookie Diva stopped herself.

The Undertaker might be a far greater threat than either Candice Michelle or Torrie Wilson had ever been...but once you stripped aside all the smoke and mirrors, his endgame was still exactly the same as theirs: he wanted to _break_ her. And if he succeeded - if _she_ broke...then Randy would, too.

And there was simply no way Ashley could allow _that_ to happen.

So instead of dissolving into hysterics, the Diva Search winner clenched her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms, lifting her chin defiantly as she spoke: "Randy's going to find me, you know."

A dry hollow laugh rippled upward from the blackness at her back. _**Such brave talk from you, little girl, when we BOTH know he will do no such thing.**_

Ashley shook her head. "Yes, he _will_ - and when he does, he'll _kill_ you-"

_**I think you overestimate his abilities**_**. **Was that a note of amusement in the Phenom's voice? _**You forget - he tried once before to kill me...and FAILED. **_There was a pause. _**He will never come**_**.**

The rookie Diva stubbornly shook her head again. "You don't _know_ him-"

_**I know him better than you! **_Ashley shrieked; somehow, in a scant handful of seconds, the Undertaker had soundlessly closed the distance between them - now he was right at her shoulder, his voice booming in her head as though there was a loudspeaker embedded in her brain. _**I know...that his heart is weak and cowardly - that he will sacrifice whatever and WHOever he needs to in order to win.**_

The Diva Search winner reflexively shrank away, whimpering. "No..." she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as her blue-green eyes filled up with involuntary tears. "He won't...he _loves_ me-"

_**LOVE? **_The Phenom's tone had become faintly derisive. _**You stupid girl - there is no love...only foolishness. Orton was a fool for thinking that he could defeat me...and that he could protect you from me. **_

The Deadman paused, and Ashley felt a faint feather-light sensation near the curve of her neck, as though fingertips had just brushed her hair. _**And YOU...are just as foolish as he is.**_

Ashley trembled, her breath tearing out of her in shaky gasps. The Undertaker's shadow seemed to be expanding, spreading out around her like the dark hood of a cobra. _**You think that you can SAVE him; that you can somehow drag him back from the darkness that has been his fate ever since he slapped me in the face. I warned you...but you refused to listen...so now you must bear witness - not just to Orton's destruction...but to his cowardice.**_

The rookie Diva hunched her shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut, but there was no escaping that _voice_ - and the Phenom was relentless, his toneless drawl dropping down to an ominous whisper: _**I want you to witness with your own eyes the moment when he must make a decision between your life and his...and chooses to save himself-**_

"_No-_" Ashley's voice broke, the rest of her words becoming unintelligible as she dissolved into sobs. The Diva Search winner's slender body shook as she wept, her resistance melting away as the tears streamed down her face. "_Please_..." she gradually managed to say. "_Please...just let me go-_"

_**How does it feel, little girl? **_The Undertaker's voice was soft, but the savage enjoyment dancing at the edges of it was unmistakable. _**How does it feel...knowing that there is NOTHING in this world to believe in?**_

Ashley sniffed, gazing listlessly down at her lap. "I wish-" She faltered, tried again; forcing the words up out of her raw aching throat in a baleful hiss. "I wish...that he _had _burned you alive."

There was no response from the darkness at her back...only the quiet hollow echo of a laugh.

* * *

Stephanie stood in the front lobby of Titan Tower, gazing through the glass at the wide expanse of the half-filled parking lot. The security team had escorted Randy out of the building following his altercation with Matt, and the Legend Killer now sat on the curb, his back to her, looking for all the world like an oversized kid waiting to be picked up from school.

The Billion Dollar Princess closed her eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath before grabbing hold of the door handle and pushing it open. The icy bite of the chilly morning air immediately hit her, and she briskly rubbed her upper arms, her low sensible heels making soft clicking sounds on the concrete as she walked over to the third-generation Superstar.

Randy barely looked up as the former SmackDown GM eased down next to him. "Is he all right?" The flatness of his tone belied whatever solicitude the question might have contained, suggesting that he wouldn't have given a damn if the elder Hardy brother had been bleeding from the ears.

Stephanie glanced over at him. The Legend Killer was staring at his hands, the knuckles still scraped and bruised from where they had connected with Matt's unprotected face. His expression had closed down, his features resuming their familiar countenance of scornful indifference that the fans recognized so well - but unlike them, the Billion Dollar Princess knew that it was just a mask; a facade of uncaring designed to conceal just how much he _did_.

The former SmackDown GM shrugged. "He'll live." The edge of her upper lip twitched ever-so-slightly in disgust. "Although I think the beating you gave him won't sting half as bad as the guilt that's eating him up inside."

"_Good_!" Randy practically spat the word out, bitterness and venom dripping from the single syllable. "I'm _glad_!"He looked up at his former boss, his azure irises blazing with an anguish and fury incongruous to his callous expression, and in their depths, Stephanie could glimpse the terrified young man she had seen in her office, helplessly enslaved to the emotions driving him out of his mind.

The third-generation Superstar went on, his deep voice thick and tightly controlled. "He was right about one thing - Ash is in this mess...because of _me_. I _know_ that. But I _tried _to _protect _her...while _he_-" Randy stopped, sucking in a sharp ragged breath before continuing. "-_he _practically handed her over to 'Taker-"

The Legend Killer halted again, looking away. He balled his hands into fists, pressing them against either side of his head, the scrapes and cuts standing out in stark relief against the whiteness of his knuckles. "I wanted to kill him." It was a flat declarative statement. "I wanted to kill him _so bad_ - and if your guys hadn't gotten in there and dragged me away from him..."

His voice faltered, remorse momentarily seeping into it. "..._I would have_."

"Listen to me, Randy," Stephanie grabbed the third-generation Superstar's hands, pulling them away from his face, forcing him to look at her. Her tone was soft, but filled with the unmistakable timbre of authority. "Listen to me - you _cannot _waste your time feeling sorry for that son of a bitch. You hear me? Because the _last _thing you _or _Ash needs is for you to step into that cage with even more doubts."

The Billion Dollar Princess peered at Randy critically, her pale blue eyes narrowing. "What I saw in your face back there...it scared the hell out of me. Not because it was vicious...but because it was _real_ - as though everything you had done prior to that moment had been just going through the motions."

"I lost control-" the Legend Killer began.

"_Exactly._" Stephanie interrupted. Her slender fingers tightened over his clenched fists with surprising strength. "And if you want to see Ashley again, that's _precisely_ what you'll need to do on Sunday - you'll have to _lose control_." The former SmackDown GM's mouth stretched upward in a humorless smile. "Because the truth is...those who _survive_ the Cell...they don't win because of their strength or their skill or their strategy - they _win_ because they fight like they have _nothing_ left to_ lose_."

Her azure irises bore unflinchingly into his. "How far are you willing to go...to get her back?"

Randy's face didn't change; only his lips moved as he spoke. "_All the way_."

Stephanie leaned in closer, until their faces were nearly touching. "_Then do it_." she whispered.

A few seconds of silence crept by. Eventually, the Billion Dollar Princess drew back, rising to her feet and brushing herself off. "I should get back to work-"

"Hey...Steph?" At the third-generation Superstar's hesitant query, Stephanie paused, but didn't look back. "Before you go, I just want to ask - when you said...that the Deadman can tap into you-"

A flicker of exasperation flitted across the former SmackDown GM's delicate features. 'I _told_ you - I can't-"

"No, no, it's not that," At this, the Billion Dollar Princess turned around, arching her eyebrows in puzzlement. Randy's gaze was fixed on some distant point, his tone elsewhere as he spoke. "It's just that...it's been more than two years since you were the SmackDown GM, and even longer since all that Ministry of Darkness crap went down-"

"What's your _point_?" An edge crept into Stephanie's voice.

The Legend Killer didn't flinch at the sudden sharpness of her tone, but his eyes shifted slightly, focusing on hers once again. "My point is...haven't you ever wondered _why_ - after all this time - Undertaker's still holding onto you?"

As soon as those five words fell from his lips, Stephanie felt her mouth go dry; felt her skin prickle as the color retreated from her face. The world around her began to pitch and spin, and she could hear her own voice - now inexplicably fearful and evasive - stammer: "I..I have no idea..."

Without any further word, she spun around, walking briskly back toward the gleaming glass-covered facade of Titan Tower, her knees shaking with every step. Her heart was in her throat, swelling outward until she could barely breathe. Images and sounds filled her head, suffocating her-

_The shadowy stretch of the deserted hallway...the faint excited roar of the Survivor Series crowd..._

_ Her voice, choked with panic and unshed tears: "Please...I don't want to lose you..."_

_ His green eyes, staring down at her with a mixture of solemnity and tenderness...his fingers - rough and callused, but not yet cold, not yet dead - caressing her cheek._

_ His voice, MARK'S voice - the man she had loved...the man she had lost: "I'll come back. No matter what happens...I'll come back."_

-and in the back of her mind, the Billion Dollar Princess was painfully aware that she was _running away_ - more than that, she was _lying_-

_No matter what happens..._

_ I'll..._

_ Come..._

_ Back..._

-and not just to Randy, but to _herself_.

* * *

"What's going to happen to me?" Ashley lifted her head, leaning back against the metal support beam. She had eventually stopped crying - but only because her body seemed to have exhausted its available supply of tears. The emotional outburst had only added to her petite frame's collective ache, and the Diva Search winner felt completely and utterly depleted.

She received no answer - not that she had really been expecting one. "Even if you get what you want on Sunday - are you going to leave me like this?" Ashley sniffed loudly, wishing vaguely that she had some way of wiping her runny nose. "Huh? Are you going to spend the next six years driving me crazy, just like you did to Stephanie McMahon-"

Her voice trailed off as the shadows surrounding her shuddered briefly, like the surface of a pond after a rock has been tossed into its depths - and from behind her, there came a faint noise that sounded almost like a sharp intake of breath. The rookie Diva froze, her gaze darting back and forth, but nothing further followed, and she went on. "What do you _want_ with her, anyway? I _get_ why you're doing this to _me - _but why _her_-"

Her words ended in a startled pain-filled yelp as an unseen hand grabbed hold of her long gold-and-black tresses and yanked back hard. The back of Ashley's skull connected against the iron support beam with an ugly _CLANG_, and bright stars exploded across her vision, accompanied by a wave of nauseating dizziness. A second later, the Undertaker's furious snarl thundered in her ear: _**You leave Steph out of this! NEVER speak of her again! Understand?**_

Ashley couldn't talk at first - she was too busy fighting against her body's reflexive desire to puke. "What the _fuck_?" she finally managed to exclaim. "What was _that_ for? Why not-"

Her flow of invectives abruptly faded away into silence as the full weight of the Phenom's words sank into her brain - not the threat, but the part that had preceded it...the part that mentioned the Billion Dollar Princess by name.

_You leave Steph out of this..._

He had called her "Steph". Not "Stephanie", not "Ms. McMahon", not "the Chairman's Daughter"...but _Steph_.

_Undertaker...he's not human...at least, I don't THINK he is..._

_ When he was buried alive...that part of him went away..._

_ It makes sense...he couldn't have survived any other way..._

And with a flash of revelation that was both brilliant and almost overwhelming...Ashley _understood_. Understood...and wondered how she had never seen it until now.

With effort, the Diva Search winner swallowed hard, licking her lips. "Oh my God..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Oh my God...I'm so stupid...how could I not _see_?..." She turned her head as far to the side as the grip on her hair would allow, peering into the blackness at her back. "You _love_ her...don't you?"

Silence followed her assertion...but unlike all the other times, _this_ silence was filled with the sort of palpable tension that is an answer in itself. Ashley barreled on, cognizant in the back of her mind that she was skirting dangerously close to a perilous edge...and if she crossed over _this_ line, there was no telling _what_ might happen. "_That's_ the reason you're still in her head - even after what you've become, you love her too much to let her go-

_**Silence-**_

The rookie Diva ignored him. She laughed suddenly, her voice almost shrill with a mixture of triumph and near-hysteria. "You're a hypocrite, you know that? All this _talk_ about Randy and me, when _you're _the one who can't let go-"

_**YOU WILL BE SILENT! **_All at once, the Deadman was in front of her, looming out of the gloom like a dark specter, clamping one gloved hand over the startled Diva's mouth and dragging her roughly to her feet. Ashley's blue-green eyes bulged with terror, a muffled mewling sound working its way out through the Undertaker's fingers.

The Phenom leaned in, light falling on his face for the first time. In the faint reddish glow, with half his features still obscured beneath the shadow cast by the brim of his hat, and the other half fixed in an enraged glare, he looked like the personification of all the evils of the world - pain, hate, _death_.

"Listen to me, _girl_," the Deadman spat, his voice no longer in the Diva Search winner's head, but emerging from his throat like any other person. "Orton's end _will_ come, and _nothing_ you say or do will change that!"

Part of Ashley was petrified - her skin had prickled up into goose pimples, her bladder was on the verge of letting go - but at the same time, another part of her was strangely calm. Even as she stood there, quaking beneath the Undertaker's wrath, flinching every time droplets of his saliva splattered onto her face, she found herself thinking: _He's still in there somewhere...the man he used to be - the man who loved Stephanie McMahon..._

_ And if I'm Randy's weakness...then Stephanie is HIS. _

The Phenom drew back, his face once more falling into darkness. _**Sleep now**_**...** Immediately, Ashley felt an irrepressible lassitude ooze over her, as though she had taken an entire bottle of sleeping pills. The Undertaker relinquished his grip, and the Diva Search winner sagged, slumping back down to the floor, her legs splaying out at awkward angles.

But Ashley wasn't finished - focusing the last of her will and conscious mind, she lifted her head, peering up at the dark shape looming over her through eyelids that were already starting to droop closed, her voice slurred and barely audible: "Does she even _know_...that _she's _the reason..._you came back_-"

And then she was gone, plummeting down, down, down into a sea of oblivion.


	44. Chapter 44: Dance With the Devil: Pt 1

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I hated half of this chapter, and loved the other half - I'll let you figure out which is which, lol. I also split this chapter into two parts, since it was such a big moment and I felt like it was more story than I could reasonably cram into one chapter. We're getting down to the nitty-gritty, aren't we? Anyway, enough of my babbling - ENJOY! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **burntrosepetals, AprilGilbert1996, BigRedMachineUK, see-me-clarely, ImSeriousBro, lilywhite25, MySweetSeduction, Viper Cena Fan, VanityMayhem, **and **Guest **for reviewing the last chapter! I LOVE YOU ALL! HUGS! HUGS AND PUPPIES!**

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Chapter 44: Dance With the Devil: Part 1

_Armageddon 2005_

It was a cold night in Providence, but the sold-out crowd in the Dunkin Donuts Center had been hot all evening, from the opening bout between MNM and the Mexicools, to the ongoing one between the current WWE and World Tag Team Champions.

In the dressing room marked "RANDY ORTON", however, the atmosphere was almost numbingly somber. Here, within the bowels of the backstage area, the electrified screams of the fans were muffled to little more than a faint rumble; the muted monitor broadcasting soundlessly in the corner the only indictor that a pay-per-view was taking place.

The Legend Killer sat on one of the benches, staring silently at his hands as he wrapped athletic tape around one of his wrists. Outwardly, he appeared completely absorbed by the task at hand, but a second look would have shown that his azure irises were entirely _elsewhere_; gazing at some unseen sight with a glassy vacuity.

The Hell in a Cell match between him and the Undertaker was slated to close the show - the final bout of the final pay-per-view of 2005. A year ago - hell, even six months ago - he would have been thrilled, his once inflated ego swelled to the bursting point with arrogance and confidence, his mind already racing ahead to how best to utilize his imminent victory to advance his career.

Now...the third-generation Superstar just felt cold, sick, and empty; like a useless, depleted husk of his former self. In the five days since Ashley had been taken, he had barely slept, barely eaten - all he saw when he closed his eyes was the frightened gleam in the rookie Diva's blue-green eyes, and every bite of food he put in his mouth tasted chalky and bitter, like dirt...or ashes.

He was afraid, yes...but not for the reasons anyone would have thought. It wasn't the fear of losing his spot on the roster - he had clawed his way up from the bottom before, and would do so again if need be. Nor did he fear the match itself - the brutality, the pain, the punishment he would have to endure in order to emerge from the Cell triumphant.

It wasn't even really fear of the Deadman himself anymore, despite everything he had seen and experienced. There were too many other emotions - frustration, anger, _hatred_ - raging within him now, diluting that sense of raw primal terror and robbing it of its potency.

No...what Randy was _really_ afraid of...was the idea that whatever he gave out there in the ring tonight _wouldn't be enough_ - that even if he bled every drop of his blood out onto the canvas, it _still_ wouldn't be worth the price of Ashley's freedom.

That was the thing that kept him awake at night, that made him struggle to keep food down - the dread that _he wasn't good enough_...that even if he succeeded in breaking the Undertaker down, the Phenom would still look up at him with those flat dead eyes of his and whisper in a voice just as lifeless as his gaze:

_It wasn't enough...you failed, Orton...and now, you'll never see her again..._

Randy abruptly tore off the strip of tape, tossing the roll across the room. Clenching his hand into a fist, he slammed it against his open palm, his handsome features briefly closing down into an expression of cold inscrutability.

_I'm not sorry that I challenged you, old man..._ the Legend Killer thought furiously to himself. _Everyone tiptoes around you like you're God, while all you do is hide in the shadows - you deserve to get knocked off your mountain. _

_ You think that you're holding the trump card...but I've got one, too...because I know something about you...something you never intended on anyone else finding out._

_ And as soon as we're in the ring...as soon as the cage door slams and the lock clicks shut...I'm going to jam the blade in between your ribs and twist as hard as I can - because it is PERSONAL now, Deadman, and YOU made it PERSONAL-_

The tentative knock at the door cut across the relentless rumble of Randy's thoughts, and he hunched his shoulders, smoothing the loose edge of tape down into place. "Yeah, what is it?" the third-generation Superstar barked.

The door opened, and Randy turned, expecting to see his father, a terse remark ready on his lips - a remark that died instantly as Trish Stratus stepped into the room instead.

For several long seconds, neither of them said anything; merely stared warily at one another. Finally, the Legend Killer broke the void of quiet, his countenance tightening slightly. "Well, well, well...the Women's Champion at a SmackDown pay-per-view."

The Canadian beauty let out a soft strangled sound that was almost a laugh, crossing both arms over her ample chest. "Yeah, well...if it makes any difference...I didn't come here to cheer you on."

A hint of a sardonic smile flickered around the corners of Randy's mouth. "At least you're honest." Turning away from the Women's Champion, he slowly rose to his feet, lacing his fingers behind his head as he walked toward the mirror.

Another indeterminable silence crept by. Trish ducked her head, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Listen, Randy-"

"Look, Trish, _what_ do you _want_?" The third-generation Superstar whirled around, dropping his hands back down to his sides as he glared at the Raw Diva. "Huh? Is it to tell me that I'm a bastard? That I _deserve_ whatever punishment 'Taker dishes out in the Cell?"

He flipped one hand up in a dismissive gesture, turning his back on the Women's Champion once more. "_Fine. Whatever. _Just...say whatever you came here to say, and leave me the hell alone-"

"Don't even try and pull that 'jerk' routine on me," Trish interjected, her voice both tightly controlled and hoarse with emotion, her pretty face fixed in a glower equal to his. "I know it's a load of crap. You're right, Randy - you _are_ a bastard...but nowhere near as bad as the one you _pretend _to be."

Randy froze, confusion momentarily breaking up the rigid scowl etched across his features. His blue eyes narrowed a touch. "What do _you_ know-"

"What do _I _know?" Trish echoed, her tone tinged with a hint of scorn. "I know that you beat the living fuck of Matt Hardy last week - more than that, I know _why_." She took a step toward the Legend Killer, closing the distance between them. "I know that the Undertaker took Ashley; that he's holding her hostage to get to you."

Another step; this one brought her almost within arms' reach of him. The Canadian beauty's voice softened slightly. "Most of all...I know that while you walk around here and act like you don't _care_...the truth is that you _do_...so much that it's tearing you apart." Trish paused, her gaze flicking upward to meet his. "Am I getting close?"

The third-generation Superstar stared at her for several lengthy seconds, his stoic expression sagging slightly as something within him crumbled. "Why..." he eventually managed to say. "...why _are_ you here?"

Trish said nothing at first - and then all of a sudden, her full lower lip trembled, her green eyes filling up with tears. "_Because I wanted to tell you how sorry I am_," the Women's Champion whispered.

She wrapped both arms around her torso, hugging herself. "I was wrong...I was _so_ wrong...about _you_, about _her_, about _everything_. Ash was my _friend_ - but when she needed me the most, I turned my back on her because I couldn't see past my own jealousy and insecurities-"

Trish's voice broke, tears rolling down her face one by one. "All I can think about...is all the times she must have wanted to tell me the truth, but couldn't because she was afraid I'd flip out - and I _did_; I _did_ flip out." She sniffed loudly, pressing one hand to her chest. "I...I _hit_ her, I said all these _terrible_ things...and for _what_? She never did anything wrong-"

The Canadian beauty broke off the thought, looking away as she swiped at her face with the back of her hand. "I keep thinking...that if I'd just _listened_ to her for _one second_...none of this would have happened-"

"It wasn't your fault," Randy heard himself say, feeling a ripple of sour amusement flicker through him. How many times had he uttered that particular phrase to himself, with little to no effect?

Almost as though she could read his mind, Trish curled her mouth upward into a rueful half-smile. "Yeah, right," the Women's Champion replied bitterly. "I bet you tell yourself the same thing...and I bet you don't believe it, either."

To this, the third-generation Superstar had no answer. Trish sniffed again, then suddenly reached out, grabbing onto Randy's tattooed arms. "_Please_," she whispered, peering imploringly up at his face. "_Just get her back_. And when you do - don't push her away again. Ash...she put all her trust into you - she deserves someone who won't run away when things get bad-"

The Legend Killer shook his head slowly, uttering each syllable with care. "I'll get her back. I _promise_." For an instant, a _heartbeat_, his countenance cracked, revealing a glimpse of the agony and fear lurking behind the emotionless facade. His voice, when he spoke again, was barely audible. "_I...love her_."

Trish gazed back at him for a handful of seconds before gradually nodding, her face smoothing as some measure of peace and comprehension passed over it. "I know."

"Am I interrupting something?"

Both Randy and Trish jumped at the sound of Cowboy Bob's voice, jerking away from each other. The Women's Champion hastily cleared her throat, jamming her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm gonna...go crash in the girls' locker room and see if I can get a good seat."

Her green eyes shifted toward Randy once more, her expression sobering just a touch. "Good luck," she added, and in those two words, the third-generation Superstar felt the full weight of the exchange that had just passed between them.

The Canadian beauty turned away, flipping her golden hair over one shoulder and easing through the doorway around Cowboy Bob, who moved aside to let her pass. As soon as she was gone, the Hall of Famer shot his son a questioning look, the lines in his weatherbeaten face creased even deeper as he frowned. "What was _that_ about?"

"Nothing," Randy replied, his tone hinting that his father would do well to drop this line of inquiry. Cowboy Bob opened his mouth to say something further, perhaps thought better of it, and instead remarked. "Ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Randy rolled his shoulders a few times, cracking his neck back and forth. He didn't look at the Hall of Famer. "You clear on what to do?"

Upon hearing this, Cowboy Bob's suspicious countenance drooped, becoming one of obvious discomfort. "Yes..." the Hall of Famer replied, somewhat miserably. "But...son..." Randy turned his head to the side, studying his father without speaking. The former wrestler stammered as he struggled to find the right words. "...don't you think...that you're going too far?"

"Too _far_?" the Legend Killer exclaimed, his tone somewhere between incredulous and scornful. "Dad, he _kidnapped _Ashley-"

"I _know_ that!" the Hall of Famer retorted. "And I want her back as much as you do - but _this_..." He shook his head. "You're crossing a line, son-"

"_So_?" Randy shot back defensively. "It wouldn't be the first time! All that old man and I have done since the beginning is cross lines the other has drawn in the sand!"

"But when does it _end_?" Cowboy Bob interrupted, his voice now bordering on outright pleading.

Randy shot his father a look that was a few degrees removed from withering, and when he did speak, it was through clenched teeth: "It _ends_ when I get her back."

"But at what _cost_?" The Hall of Famer stepped into the room, holding out both hands beseechingly. "What if, when it's over, you look around and realize that you can't get back because the Undertaker's dragged you down to his level-"

"What are you saying?" Randy advanced toward his father, his face flushing with growing anger. "That she's not _worth_ it? That I shouldn't even _try_?"

"No," Cowboy Bob answered, his hound-dog features even more mournful than usual. "I'm just saying that an eye for an eye makes it awful hard to see things clearly. At some point, you have to _stop_ playing _his _game...and start playing yours."

A long moment of meaningful silence crept by. Finally, the Hall of Famer straightened up, his expression becoming blank and business-like. "Don't worry about me," he remarked flatly. "I'll be in place when the time comes." His gaze swept up and down the Legend Killer, and Randy couldn't quite shake the intuition that his father was quietly judging him. "Now...shouldn't _you_ be getting your ass to gorilla?"

With that, he spun on his heel, disappearing back down the hall before his son could reply.

* * *

Trish trudged slowly down the hall, the fingers of one hand playing over her face, her throat. Despite what she had said back in Randy's dressing room, she had no desire to locate the women's locker room, or jockey for a viewing position. Right now, all she wanted to do was go back out to her car, crawl into the back seat, and cry until there were no tears left; until her body was so numb was weeping that she couldn't feel anything anymore.

For not the first time, the Canadian beauty found herself thinking back to one of her last conversations with the rookie Diva; that heated exchange inside their hotel room-

_At least I've never cheated-_

_ But you would...if you could..._

-and for not the first time, she wished fervently that she could take it back, that she could take it _all _back because it was _stupid_, it was all so pointlessly _stupid_. Ashley had been her _friend_, and instead of being there for her, Trish had pushed her away...for what? A crush that she'd never been able to get over? Because, despite the years of experience separating them, the Diva Search winner had done the one thing her mentor had never had the courage to do?

Trish sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. She felt like absolute shit; in fact, she couldn't recall a single instant during her entire WWE career where she had felt this low...and yet, she was pretty sure that her misery was a pale echo compared to what Ashley had endured.

A flicker of movement further up the hall caught her eye, and she glanced up reflexively. Almost immediately, she averted her gaze, ducking her head, wishing desperately that she had a hoodie or something to obscure her face...because the individual coming toward her down the corridor was the _last _person she wanted to see.

Even after almost a week, the elder Hardy brother's face still hadn't completely healed - the welts had closed up, but he still looked like the Big Show had used him for a punching bag, and his physical bout against JBL earlier in the evening hadn't done him any favors. He had changed into street clothes, and was massaging his arm, gingerly rotating it in its socket.

Trish hunched her shoulders, trying to cling to the wall, trying to slip past him unseen, but then she heard his voice - "Trish?" - and knew with a sinking certainty that _that_ possibility had just been rendered null and void.

The Women's Champion quickened her pace, but a second later, she felt fingers clamp around her arm, accompanied by Matt's emphatic plea: "Trish, _please_, just let me explain-"

_I swear...if I had known that it would spin out of control the way it did...I never would have said anything..._

_Sometimes...I think...that he hates me..._

_ I don't blame him...because I feel the same way..._

Trish's green eyes narrowed to small slits, and in one fluid deadly motion, she swung around, nailing the elder Hardy brother with a hard slap that sent him stumbling back.

The Women's Champion advanced toward him, her breath escaping her lungs in furious pants. "The _Undertaker_, Matt?" she exclaimed accusingly. Another slap, from the opposite direction; this one caught him on the ear. "The fucking _Undertaker_?" A third slap, but by now, Matt was able to lift his arms a little, and the blow merely glanced off his forearm.

Trish planted both hands against his chest, shoving as hard as she could. The elder Hardy brother hit the wall spine-first, wincing visibly, but made no move to defend himself. The Canadian beauty jammed her face into his, the single word tearing from her lips in a hoarse gasp: "_Why_?"

The SmackDown Superstar said nothing; only stared dejectedly at an unseen point in space. Trish slowly drew back, comprehension dawning on her delicate features. "Because you wanted Ash back...and you were desperate." It was a statement rather than a question.

Without warning, she shoved Matt again, pinning him to the wall. "_Jesus_, Matt, how could you-"

"I don't-" The elder Hardy brother's voice was lifeless, defeated. He had yet to look the Women's Champion in the eye. "I don't _expect_ you...to understand-"

"Oh, but that's the thing - I _do _understand!" At this, Matt finally looked up, frowning a little in bewilderment. Trish went on, her words tumbling out over one another. "I _understand_ more than you realize - which is why I could have told you that it was never going to work!"

She stared hard at the elder Hardy brother, her countenance both angry and sad. "You can't _trick_ someone into loving you - either they _do_ or they _don't_." She faltered briefly, then continued. "_I _found that out the hard way...when I told you the truth about Amy."

For a second or two, there was nothing. Then, gradually, understanding washed over Matt's features, and now he was the one to pull back. "You...you mean..." He was stammering, seemingly incapable of anything more complex than sentence fragment. "I didn't...I-"

In the back of her mind, Trish remembered thinking: _NOW...now, when I want nothing to do with him...he finally sees it... _

The Canadian beauty slowly shook her head. "It all comes back around, doesn't it?" she murmured, addressing herself just as much as Matt. She started to add something else, but then realized that there was nothing further to say, so she merely backed up, turning away and continuing her trek down the hall.

She had barely gone five steps before the elder Hardy brother's hand closed around her arm. His touch burned; she could feel his torment and wretchedness throbbing around her skin like a pulse. "Trish, wait-"

"Don't _touch_ me!" With a gasp, the Women's Champion tore her arm free, retreating from Matt. "Don't you _get _it? It's not Amy _or _Ashley - it's _you_!" She shook her head, her expression wide-eyed and heartbroken. "You _deserve_ to be alone."

Her full lips quivered. "Maybe...we both do."

And then she was running, running faster than the elder Hardy brother could keep up with, hot salty tears already coursing down her face and blurring her vision...but by then, the Canadian beauty didn't much care.

* * *

Randy crouched slightly, pressing both hands against one knee, his bright blue eyes fixed on the flickering expanse of the Titantron. In the back of his mind, he was dimly aware of his environment - the bright glare of the lights, the gleaming surface of the canvas, the rhythmic cadence of the crowd chanting _Un-der-tak-er_, and of course, the steel mesh engulfing him and the entire ring - but all of his consciousness, all of his focus was fixed on the entrance ramp, where he had made his way down only a minute or two prior.

Where, soon, his foe would emerge, and the fight would begin.

The Legend Killer licked his lips, his handsome face fixed in a countenance of relentless intensity. This was it, the final battle, the last chapter of a war that had consumed his entire life, a trial he had known in his heart was inevitable from the moment he had slapped the Undertaker across the face.

This match...it was no longer about lost title opportunities or locker room stature or even _pride_ - it was _personal_, in a way that made his blood simmer, that made even his worst bouts with Hunter and Evolution seem tame and clinical by comparison.

This conflict between him and the Phenom had already altered him irrevocably, but whatever happened inside this Cell tonight would _change_ him. He was about to lose some part of himself in this ring - only time would tell whether that piece was something he could function without.

Memories of Ashley drifted across the forefront of the third-generation Superstar's awareness, and for a moment, he drank them in - _her eyes, her face, her scent_ - before reluctantly tucking them into a back corner of his mind.

There was no more time to linger on sentimentality. Any second now, the Deadman would arrive.

Any second now...

_Any...second...no-_

Every light in the arena abruptly cut out, and a single sound echoed throughout the black void - the ominous _clang_ of a church bell. It pealed a second time, then a third, and the Titantron screen suddenly flickered to life, images of crosses and tombstones playing over its expanse as the Undertaker's entrance music gradually drowned out the bell.

Even though the initial _clang_ had startled him, the Legend Killer didn't move; only stared stolidly ahead as flames shot up out of the floor, behind the metal bars of the pay-per-view set; as a thick mist billowed out onto the entrance ramp. A few of the lights flared back to life, their blue light washing over the cage, the ring, the ramp-

-and then, like a ghost ship manifesting out of a bank of fog, the Undertaker came into view, moving toward the ring with the patiently relentless pace of an executioner. His cragged features were only partially visible beneath the wide brim of his hat, but nevertheless, Randy could still feel the weight of the Deadman's stare pressing down on him like a palpable presence.

The Phenom halted at the door of the Cell, pausing to remove his long black coat - which a crew member was quickly there to receive - followed by his iconic hat, which he doffed with a slowness that was both deliberate and oddly malevolent.

As his face came fully into view, Randy could see that his features were fixed in a snarl, his eyes rolled all the way back to white. A second later, though, the Undertaker's expression went slack, his eyes returning to normal and instantly fixing on the lean form of his opponent - and the Legend Killer could feel the hatred in those green irises radiating all the way across the width of the ring.

The Deadman stepped into the Cell, slamming the door shut behind him. Randy couldn't hear the sound that it made, but he still felt the impact, the finality of that single emphatic movement, vibrate through him. He backed up, swallowing hard, until his back connected with the turnbuckle pad.

Without tearing his gaze from the third-generation Superstar, the Phenom stalked up the short flight of metal steps, until he was standing at the corner opposite Randy. Turning both of his gloved hands palms up, he raised his arms up and the house lights obeyed, returning to their previously blinding luminosity.

The music cut out, but instead of the roar of the fans, all Randy could hear was thick, deadening silence...followed by the Undertaker's toneless drawl. _**Well, well...if it isn't the boy who thought he could challenge the Deadman...**_

The Legend Killer's lips barely moved, but somehow, he knew that the Deadman could hear him all the same. "Final chance, old man - _let her go_, and _maybe_...I won't kill you."

The Phenom's mouth twitched slightly, curling up into a nearly imperceptible sneer. _**Foolish boy...did you really think it would be that easy? **_Ducking neatly under the top rope, the Undertaker entered the ring, closing some of the distance between him and the third-generation Superstar. His green eyes - simultaneously lifeless and alive - bore into Randy's blue ones. _**Do you still think...that you can save her?**_

Randy's lips curved into a smirk as subtle as his nemesis'. "_You _still think...that you can _stop_ me?"

Referee Nick Patrick motioned for the bell, and bellowing, the Legend Killer lunged at his opponent...

* * *

Stephanie flinched, turning away from the screen. She had already turned off the sound on the monitor, but doing so had made absolutely no difference; her mind was doing an excellent job of filling in the blanks - she could still hear every scream, every stomp, every blow as it connected.

She'd been doing just fine until this match had started; she'd been doing her _job_, noting every angle as it played out, jotting down what had succeeded and what needed improvement or tweaking. But as soon as the match started - as soon as the Cell began lowering down onto the ring - her businesslike composure had evaporated. Her hands had started shaking uncontrollably, and she'd had to bite the inside of her lip until it bled to keep from screaming.

Part of her wanted to ignore it; to turn off the monitor, plug her fingers into her ears and pretend that none of this was happening. But as tempting as that notion was, the Billion Dollar Princess knew that she would never cave to it. She was involved now; she was just as much a part of this story as those two men in the ring, and thus her only option at this point was to watch this drama play out to its very last moments.

Besides...the worst was yet to come.

_That_ was the one thing she was certain of; she could feel it sitting in her stomach like a leaden weight. Because the Undertaker - human or not, _alive_ or not - was a showman; his ring entrance alone was proof of that. He needed an audience to play to; a stage to display the depths of his depravity.

In another life, this man - if he could even be called that - had challenged her father, the Chairman of the WWE, to a Buried Alive match. So it wasn't enough that he had Randy in a Hell in a Cell match, or that he had taken Ashley in order to get to the Legend Killer. No...in order to win, _truly _win, he would want the entire world to see just how thoroughly and utterly he had broken Randy Orton.

And with an awful sense of inevitability that made her nauseous, the former SmackDown GM _knew_ that whatever torment the Diva Search winner had endured over the past week...wasn't over yet.

A figure materialized suddenly in the open doorway, startling her, and Stephanie let out an involuntary shriek. "Oh my God, you scared..." Her voice died away into silence as she turned, her pale blue eyes meeting the mournful gaze of Cowboy Bob Orton.

The sight of Randy's father should have quelled the Billion Dollar Princess's panic, but instead, she felt it ratchet up to an extreme level, until her heart was racing in her chest. She swallowed hard, trying to force saliva down a throat that had inexplicably gone dry as a bone. "Bob!" Her voice was trembling, and about an octave higher than it should have been. "What are you doing here-"

The Hall of Famer stepped into the room, advancing toward her slowly. "I'm real sorry about this, Steph-" He _was_ sorry, she could hear it in his voice, see it reflected in his eyes. But there was something else, too...a bitter resolution which made her think that she was _not _going to like what came next.

"-but I'm gonna need you to come with me."

* * *

Randy dropped down on the mat next to the prone form of the Undertaker. His whole body ached with pain and exertion, and he was having trouble seeing - the Deadman had cracked his head open with a chair shot, and a mixture of sweat and blood kept running into his eyes.

Nevertheless, the Legend Killer pounded both fists against the canvas, leaning down over his adversary. "You're not gonna win this one, old man," he growled, his deep voice sounding more bestial than human. "I won't stop until I _kill_ your legend this time; until I _bring her back_!"

The Phenom opened his eyes, staring up at the third-generation Superstar. He had been busted open as well; his face was a crimson mask. For a long increment of time, he said nothing...and then, suddenly, the Undertaker smiled. "You want her back so badly?" His voice was hollow and hoarse with effort, but menace still oozed off every word. His green irises shifted a bit, focusing on a point above them in the rafters.

The Deadman's smile widened. His teeth were stained with blood. "_Then take her_."

The Legend Killer frowned, wondering what he meant by that, but then he heard the gasps and screams from the fans behind him, and whipped around - his heart halting for an instant, then plummeting into the abyss as he saw the source of their alarm.

His lips moved, his voice little more than a moan: "Oh my God..." The Legend Killer scrambled to his feet, the word terrified out of him in a horrified shout:

"_Ashley_!"


	45. Chapter 45: Dance With the Devil: Pt 2

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! Christ, this was a doozy. I tried to get this out as quickly as possible, because when I do something like split a chapter into two parts, I figure I owe it to you all not to dick around with posting the conclusion. But seriously...this chapter drained me. I need to go not think for about a day. But in the meantime, ENJOY! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **BigRedMachineUK, burntrosepedals, Shandy777, AprilGilbert1996, ImSeriousBro, xXAJSugaSpiceEverythingNiceX x, see-me-clarely, lilywhite25, Viper Cena Fan, Enchanting Disaster, **and **MySweetSeduction **for your amazing reviews! Without you, I might as well be talking to myself, so hugs, HUGS FOR ALL! LOVE YAS!**

* * *

Chapter 45: Dance With the Devil: Part 2

The enormous Undertaker symbol was suspended twenty feet or so above the entrance ramp. Lashed to it, like an exotic butterfly splayed on a display board, was the still form of the Diva Search winner.

The strength abruptly left Randy's legs, and he sank to the mat, sagging against the middle and bottom ropes for support as he stared open-mouthed at the grotesque sight before him. Ashley's head lolled forward, her long hair obscuring her face like a gold-and-black curtain. He couldn't see her features clearly, but from the motionless way she hung there, leaning into her restraints rather than struggling against them, she appeared to be mercifully unconscious.

There were no words; the Legend Killer doubted he would have been capable of uttering them if there were. All he could think - in that tiny part of his exhausted and emotionally overwrought brain that was still capable of rational thought - was that after all the months of mind games and mental torture...the Deadman had finally done the thing that was truly unforgivable; had crossed the one line from which there could be no return.

A sick dizzy feeling washed over Randy, and for a few gut-wrenching seconds, he came dangerously close to spewing the contents of his stomach all over the canvas. But instead of relinquishing himself to the sensation, the third-generation Superstar swallowed it down, wincing as hot bile scorched his throat.

Tearing his gaze away reluctantly and whipping around in an ungainly turn that nearly sent him tumbling face-first onto the mat, he half-loped, half-crawled back to where the Undertaker lay, grabbing the straps of his singlet and hoisting him an inch or two off the canvas. "_Let her go_!" the Legend Killer snarled, his lips peeling back from his clenched teeth.

The Phenom said nothing; merely stared blandly back at him as though he didn't comprehend the request. Randy's blue eyes bulged with fury and he slammed the Deadman down onto the mat before yanking him up once again. "You sick _fuck_, _let her go_! She's got nothing to do with this-"

"_Wrong_," the Undertaker spat. "She has _everything_ to do with this." His eyes, burning bright with malice and triumph, bore unflinchingly into Randy's, their clear green a stark contrast to the blood coating his face. "Do you _know_ why so many others have fallen before me, Orton?" It was a rhetorical question, one that both of them already knew the answer to. "Because in the end...all of them, _every one_, had something to lose."

He paused, more for dramatic effect than anything else. "And so do you."

The Phenom lifted his head up, arching his neck almost like a snake, his resonant gravelly voice dropping to a level that the third-generation Superstar still had no trouble hearing: "The only way to beat me is to relinquish yourself to the emptiness...and _she_-" He jerked his head in the faintest of nods up toward the massive symbol suspended before them. "-is the thing that keeps you from being empty."

He abruptly grabbed onto Randy's arm, his gloved fingers digging into the Legend Killer's tattooed flesh as he pulled himself up even more. "As long as you have her, you're _weak_-"

"No, I'm not-" Randy began, but the Undertaker cut him off, his tone relentless and unforgiving: "-and as long as you're _weak_, you will _never _defeat me-"

"Shut up-"

The Deadman's eyes were like twin pits of hellfire. "-and _my_ legend will _always_ be the one you could _never_ kill-"

"_Shut up_!" Randy's fist slammed into the Phenom's face, shattering his nose with an ugly crunch of cartilage. The Legend Killer laid into his adversary with wild punches, the words tearing out of him in a crazed shriek that was an octave or two higher than his normally deep range: "Shut up, _shut up_! I can _beat_ you, old man! I _know_ I can! I'm _better_ than you-"

"Then _prove_ it!" The Undertaker spat out a mouthful of blood, his voice distorted, but not losing any of its ferocity as he glared up at the younger Superstar. "_Prove _that the darkness runs through _your_ veins as well as mine! _Prove _it..."

The Deadman's toneless drawl dropped to a whisper, his fingers digging into Randy's arm hard enough to bruise. "...by sacrificing _her_."

As soon as those three words left the Undertaker's lips, the third-generation Superstar felt a chill sweep over his entire body, as though someone had injected ice directly into the marrow of his bones. And as he sat there, his mind scrabbling for purchase, still trying to wrap itself around the notion of this unthinkable possibility...a new voice suddenly rang out from the confused murmur of the spectators, intense and strident:

"_Taker_!"

Both men looked up as Cowboy Bob emerged through the crowd, the sea of fans parting to allow him passage. The Hall of Famer was clearly shaken - beneath the brim of his brown cowboy hat, his face was the approximate color and consistency of old cheese - but his hoarse tone remained flinty and unwavering. "You want to play games, Deadman? Huh? Well, then, I've got something of _yours-"_

He tugged sharply, more gasps of shock and surprise erupting as he dragged the slender shaking figure of Stephanie McMahon out in front of him. "-something that means even more to you than that urn."

Randy hear a sharp intake of breath, and looking down, he saw that the Undertaker had gone absolutely still, his gaze fixed intently on the trembling Billion Dollar Princess. His face was unreadable, but there was something less..._formidable_... about his body language than there had been a few minutes ago.

_I finally got to him..._the Legend Killer thought to himself. _And not on the surface, either...but deep down...where it still hurts..._

_ After all these months of getting to me...I FINALLY got to HIM..._

Instead of elation, however, Randy felt only nauseous unease. He might have thrown the Phenom off-balance, but as long as the rookie Diva remained suspended from the ceiling, the Undertaker held _him_ in check. His only option at this point was to keep attacking; to keep enlarging that chink in the Deadman's armor until it was big enough to allow a fatal blow to slip through.

The third-generation Superstar forced a sneer onto his face, hoping it looked more sinister than it felt. "So..." he drawled. "_You..._and the _boss's daughter_..." Part of him wanted to steal a glance back toward Ashley, just to make certain that she hadn't vanished into thin air, but he willed himself not to. If there was _any _time that he needed to be the monster that everyone believed he was, it was _now_.

Randy leaned down until his mouth was practically against his opponent's ear. "Did you _really_ think that I wouldn't find out...about your dirty little secret?"

The Phenom slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, then his knees. "You failed, Orton," the veteran Superstar finally replied after an indeterminable time had gone by. "_Admit it_ - you can't defeat me." His green irises never wavered from Stephanie, however, as he spoke, and there was a certain emptiness in his tone this time - not of emotion, but of _conviction_. "The woman - she means _nothing_ to me-"

"Nothing?" Randy echoed, his voice oozing with just a touch of sarcasm. Looking up, he met his father's gaze, dipping his head in an almost imperceptible nod. Cowboy Bob returned the gesture, and with brutal suddenness, shoved the Billion Dollar Princess into the black security barrier, hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

This time, the Deadman visibly flinched, a low sound escaping him that might have been a moan. Randy's azure irises flicked back down in his direction. "Nothing, huh?" he repeated. "You expect me to _believe _that?" Another nod; this time, the Hall of Famer actually pushed Stephanie over the security barrier. The former SmackDown GM landed hard and awkwardly on her hip, crying out in pain.

The Undertaker's face was like a death mask, his lips barely moving over gritted teeth as he stared at the Billion Dollar Princess. "I _told_ you - she is _nothing_-"

"Don't tell me - tell _her_!" The Legend Killer grabbed his adversary by the neck, and with one swift adrenalized motion, hauled the Phenom up, tossing him through the ropes and out of the ring. The Undertaker hit the cage wall head-first and slid down, not even lifting up his arms to grab onto the chain links.

A heartbeat later, Randy was out of the squared circle, grabbing his opponent by the hair and forcing his face against the metal links. "Go on, then," the third-generation Superstar growled, the words tumbling out in between furious pants. "Lie to her, just like I lied to Ash, to _Stacy_. _Tell her _that she means nothing to you; that the reason you're inside her head _isn't_ because you're still holding on."

Outside the Cell, Stephanie gingerly pulled herself up into a sitting position, coughing as she struggled to catch her breath. Randy pressed the Deadman's face even harder against the cage wall, his voice rising to a frenzied scream: "_Tell her _that she's _not _the reason you came back from the fucking _grave_!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, it was as though someone had sucked all of the air out of the room. The first few rows fell silent; Stephanie froze, what little breath she had regained leaving her in an astonished gasp. For what seemed like the longest time, no one spoke...then, eventually, the Billion Dollar Princess broke the silence, her voice no more than a whisper. "Is that..._true_?"

There was no answer from the Phenom. Still coughing, the former SmackDown GM inched toward the Cell, her pale blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. She seemed to have forgotten the presence of both Ortons; all of her focus was on the Undertaker. "Is it?" she pressed. Her voice was still soft, but thick with urgency and something else - something like _hope_. "The reason you came back...was for _me_?"

There were holes, about six inches in diameter, scattered sporadically across the walls of the Cell; foot-holes in case anyone ever got the crazy idea to climb up the damn thing. It was through one of these holes that the Undertaker slowly stuck his hand, then his arm, reaching out wordlessly toward the Billion Dollar Princess.

Crawling on her knees, Stephanie closed the distance between them, grabbing the Deadman's gloved hand and pressing it against her face with both of hers. Her full lips quivered, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she murmured one last hesitant query:

"_Mark_?"

Randy's boot slammed into the Deadman's head, smashing his face against the cage. The Undertaker fell, stunned, his arm catching in the Cell hole and causing him to dangle awkwardly against the chain link wall. The Legend Killer didn't pause, though, but kept attacking, driving his feet into his adversary's unprotected head, neck, limbs, kidneys, his stomps becoming more frenetic and vicious with each passing second, the anxiety and the rage pouring out of him like water from a gushing faucet.

"No!" Stephanie screamed, scrambling to her feet, clawing wildly at the third-generation Superstar through the narrow links of the cage. "Don't hurt him! _Please_-" Her cries were cut off as Cowboy Bob climbed over the security barrier, clapping one hand over her mouth and dragging her back. His complexion, however, was even more sickly than before, and his eyes were full of distress as they stared at the frenzied figure of his son.

Randy abruptly stopped, dropping down next to the Phenom, grabbing him by the chin and forcing his opponent to look at him. "You see what it's like?" He was barely aware of what he was saying - his voice seemed to be coming from a great distance away - all he knew was the _feeling_; the sensation of being truly _here_ and _himself_, with all the pretenses and defenses stripped away-

_Those who survive the Cell...they win because they fight like they have nothing left to lose..._

The Legend Killer went on. "How does it feel - caring about something other than yourself, knowing that you're not as empty as you thought you were?" His fingertips sank into the Deadman's flesh, almost hard enough to break the skin. "I don't give a _shit _about me or you or your fucking legend - the only one I _care _about is _Ashley_!"

The third-generation Superstar took a deep breath; with his free hand, he jabbed toward the Billion Dollar Princess. "The way I see it, we both have something the other one wants now. You wants Steph back? _Then give me Ash_."

For what seemed like an eternity, the four of them remained where they were - two inside the Cell, two out - either unable or unwilling to break the Mexican standoff they were all locked in. Finally, the Undertaker stirred, his mouth curling up in the tightest and bitterest of grins, and even though his lips never moved, Randy still heard that unmistakable drawl reverberate in his head: _**How interesting...perhaps there is more emptiness in you than you imagine, boy...**_

His massive tattooed shoulder rose and fell in the barest suggestion of a shrug. _**Very well then...**_

The Deadman gestured, flicking one hand slightly. Almost immediately, Randy heard a low rumble, and looking back over his shoulder, he saw that the massive symbol containing Ashley was slowly descending to the floor.

A wave of relief swept through the Legend Killer, so pure and heady that it turned his limbs to water, and struggling to his feet, he stumbled around the corner of the ring, heading for the locked cell door. He could hear Nick Patrick shouting at him, telling him that he couldn't leave, that he needed to get back in the ring, but Randy ignored him. Quite frankly, he didn't care if he lost, or got disqualified, or even if Teddy Long fired him for walking out on a main-event match - all that mattered to him was holding Ashley in his arms once again and taking her far away from this place.

The third-generation Superstar balled his hand into a fist, pounding on the Cell door, the impact rattling the chain wrapped around the latch. "Let me out!" Outside, referees Jimmy Korderas and Charles Robinson stared at him, then at each other warily, clearly unsure of how to proceed in this particular situation. Randy pounded even harder, frustration and anxiety seeping into his voice. "God_damn_it, let me out! _Please_!"

The refs exchanged another uncertain look, then Robinson - perhaps making a judgement call and deciding that an unconscious Diva tied to an Undertaker symbol trumped at least some of the rules some of the time - fumbled in his pocket for the keys.

The Legend Killer didn't even give him the chance to open the door, but shoved it ajar as soon as the latch was lifted, striding up the ramp. All of his attention was on Ashley now; the refs, his father, Stephanie, even the Undertaker had been forgotten. Drawing closer, he could see that she _was_ unconscious, her skin pallid, with dark circles under her eyes that stood out like bruises.

An acute combination of love and perturbation swarmed over Randy, almost knocking him over, and he shot one last glance over his shoulder at Korderas and Robinson. "Don't just stand there - get me something to cut her down-"

The remainder of that sentence was cut off by the sudden rush of intense light and heat that erupted from the floor. The third-generation Superstar reflexively threw both arms up in front of his face to shield himself, stumbling backward, tripping over his own feet and going down to one knee. Bracing himself against the brilliant glare, he carefully lowered his arms.

What he saw almost stopped his heart.

A ring of fire had materialized out of nowhere, shooting up out of the floor to encircle the Undertaker symbol - and the helpless Diva lashed to its center. Even from several feet back, the heat was overpowering, and the flames were half as tall as Randy himself.

_**You FOOL...did you really think...it would be that easy?**_

Randy hear the words burst out of him in a thin reedy scream - _No no no no no - _and he lurched to his feet, whipping around. The Undertaker was no longer huddled in a broken bleeding mass, but now stood at the entrance of the Cell, his bulk filling the doorway. In the red-orange glow of the flames, with his face covered in blood, he looked like the Devil himself.

The Legend Killer staggered toward him, holding out both hands beseechingly. "Let her _go_!" he screamed. "You sick bastard - you'll _kill _her-"

The Phenom's face twisted with menace and hatred, and his voice boomed through Randy's skull with the same ominous finality as the church bell. _**SO BE IT!**_

Randy backed away, shaking his head in disbelief, his mouth moving, but no words issuing forth. Tears of frustration and panic streamed from his eyes, and all he could think was that this wasn't happening - he was dreaming and any moment he would wake up...

As he did, a new sound cut across his thoughts - the shrill frightened shriek of a woman. Whirling around, the third-generation Superstar saw that what was already a nightmare had just become even worse - Ashley had regained consciousness. The Diva Search winner thrashed against her bonds like a fish caught on a line, her eyes wide and frightened, her hysterical screams reaching a fever pitch.

Randy felt a sob tear out of his throat. "You psycho _fuck_-" His voice trailed off as he turned around, his blue eyes lighting on the figure hesitating at the corner of the Cell - the lithe form of the Billion Dollar Princess.

The Legend Killer didn't _think_, he _reacted_ - closing the space between them in a few steps, he clamped his fingers around Stephanie's wrist, yanking her back toward the inferno surrounding the Undertaker symbol. The former SmackDown GM shrieked and tried to dig her heels in, but as tall and strong as she was, she was no match for the crazed strength infusing Randy Orton.

"_Is this what you want_?" the third-generation Superstar bellowed. "Huh?" He spun around, looping his arm around the Billion Dollar Princess's neck and pulling her against him, the two of them perilously close to the flames. Stephanie whimpered, but Randy didn't seem to notice; his eyes were smoldering with the maddened light of someone who is dangerously close to the breaking point.

The Legend's Killer's deep voice was a roar, barely recognizable as human: "I'll do it! _I'll fucking do it if you don't LET HER GO-"_

All at once, an unknown sensation crashed over him, like a tidal wave without the water; like a slap without the stinging blow. Randy didn't know quite how to describe it; only that a moment ago, he'd been teetering on the brink of insanity - and now, his head was strangely clear.

It was as though he had been ripped out of his body for an instant, allowing him to catch a glimpse of himself - the sweat and tears cutting streaks through the blood coating his face, his spiky brown hair sticking out in all directions, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral snarl - and grasp for perhaps the first time just how far he'd fallen.

If he did this, there would be no going back. Not ever. Okay, he would be a legend - but who would want anything to do with him? How would Ashley even be able to look at him again if he let himself sink this low?

Who would believe him capable of love...if he was capable of this?

Voices washed over the third-generation Superstar - Stephanie's...

_How far are you willing to go...to get her back?..._

_ ..._his own...

_All the way..._

...and his father's, drowning out them both...

_What if...when it's over...you look around and realize you can't get back because the Undertaker's dragged you down to his level?..._

Randy blinked, filled with the sudden confusion of someone who has just woken from a deep dream-filled sleep. He looked around - everyone else seemed to be frozen; it was as though he was the only human being still capable of movement. Over by the Cell, in the spot where Stephanie had just been, his father now stood, his hound-dog features unreadable beneath the brim of his hat.

As the third-generation Superstar watched, the Hall of Famer stirred, tilting his chin up just a fraction, his final piece of advice echoing in his son's head-

_At some point...you have to stop playing HIS game...and start playing YOURS..._

Randy closed his eyes for a moment, slowly shaking his head. "I won't do it," he whispered, though it was unclear who he was addressing. Without warning, he released his hold on the former SmackDown GM, shoving her to the side and out of the way. Stephanie fell to her knees, but the Legend Killer barely noticed; all of his attention was centered on the dark figure in the doorway of the Cell.

Randy pointed at the Phenom. "I won't play your game, old man." His voice, though still a shout, was considerably calmer than it had been before. Another emphatic shake of his head. "Not anymore. Now...now _you_ play _my _game."

He halted right in front of the Undertaker, less than a foot of space separating them. "I want to trade."

The Deadman's gaze shifted slightly to the side, toward the figure of the Billion Dollar Princess. "Steph for-"

"_No, not_ Steph - _me_!" Randy interrupted brusquely. He jabbed himself in the chest with his index finger. "Me for her! _Me for her_! Take _me_ and let Ash go!" He sucked in a deep shuddering breath, his azure irises never leaving the Phenom's. "That's what you want, isn't it? Take your win, keep your legend - just don't _hurt _her."

Tears pooled in his eyes, cutting rivers through the veneer of blood as they trickled down. "_Please_," the Legend Killer whispered, his deep voice cracking. "_I love her_."

The Undertaker stared at him silently, and for just a moment, an _instant_, his sharp features softened, a hint of understanding, _compassion_ flittering across their unyielding planes - and then, all of a sudden, he grabbed Randy by the throat, dragging him back into the Cell.

The third-generation Superstar only had a vague awareness of what happened next - his shoulder slamming in the mat as he hit the canvas, the feeling of his body leaving the ground, the inverted sensation as the Phenom set him up for the Tombstone.

Instead of alarm, though, Randy felt only a strange sort of calm; a relief at knowing it was almost over. As the Undertaker dropped to his knees, he caught one final glimpse of the ramp; saw the flames wink out as though they had never existed.

He remembered thinking: _Thank God she's finally safe..._ and then the top of his head connected with the canvas, and for the Legend Killer, the third-generation Superstar, the youngest World Heavyweight Champion in history...there was only oblivion.

* * *

Unlike that nightmarish handful of seconds amidst the flames, Ashley returned to consciousness this time in gradual chunks. The first thing she was aware of was the dull heated pain in her face and arms, as though she'd been out in the sun too long. The second was the hazy aroma of smoke engulfing her; she could feel it climbing down her throat, filling her mouth with its bitter charred scent.

The rookie Diva coughed, a violent hacking sound, and as she did, the noise of the outside world rushed in with a nearly audible _SWOOP_; a confused babble of voices overlaid with a woman screaming _Cut her down! Don't just fucking stand there - cut her down-_

The bonds holding her arms and legs in place abruptly relaxed; unable to catch herself, Ashley collapsed forward - right into a set of waiting arms.

The Diva Search winner coughed once more, feeling like she was expelling a piece of lung along with smoke-filled air. Wincing a little, she carefully opened her eyes to see the concerned face of Cowboy Bob Orton staring down at her. His lips were moving; he was talking. "Easy now-"

"Where's Randy?" Ashley interjected in between coughs.

The Hall of Famer shook his head. "Sit down. You need to rest. The paramedics are on their way-"

"_Where's Randy_?" the rookie Diva reiterated, more vehemently this time. Cowboy Bob started to say something else, perhaps realized how colossally pointless arguing with her would be, and instead, wrapped both arms tighter around her. "Hang onto me."

Ashley obeyed without question - after so many days spent chained to a pole, her legs were next to useless; they felt like limp rubbery noodles beneath her. The Hall of Famer turned, half-carrying, half-supporting her as he made his way back toward the now-empty Cell.

Ashley's blue-green eyes swept listlessly over the scene without really seeing or comprehending it - the disorderly cluster of backstage and production personnel, the security officers trying to quell the sea of fans, and Stephanie in the thick of it all, struggling to maintain some semblance of control while looking as though what she really wanted was to burst into tears.

Of the Undertaker, there was no sign - it was as though he'd vanished into thin air.

With effort, the Diva Search winner looked back toward the ring - as soon as she did, she felt her heart slow and nearly stop altogether. Just outside the door of the Cell, wedged between two blue-shirted SmackDown referees, wobbling on legs that looked as weak and unreliable as hers felt, was Randy.

For Ashley, it was as though the world has clicked back into focus; as though she was once more aware of reality and her existence within it. Letting out a sob that was compromised of too many emotions to be properly categorized, she disentangled her arms from Cowboy Bob, staggering toward the supported figure of his son.

Randy saw her at almost exactly the same moment; started moving as soon as she did. Ashley wouldn't never forget the way his blood-stained face lit up, or the plethora of emotions that swarmed over it - relief, sadness, pain, joy, and above all else, _love_.

Always _love_.

The two of them collapsed into each other's arms, sinking down onto the ramp as they embraced one another. Randy held her face in both of his hands, covering her lips, her cheeks, her forehead with kisses, before pulling her close and burying his face in the crook of her neck. His arms tightened around her, all the air leaving his body in one shaky gasp. "I'm so sorry, Ash," His voice was husky with imminent tears. "I never meant...I'm so sorry-"

"It doesn't matter," the rookie Diva heard herself say. "It doesn't matter...because you got me back." She lifted up Randy's head so he could look at her, tears already trickling from her blue-green eyes as she stared into his azure ones. "_You got me back_."

At this, the Legend Killer's face crumpled, and he wept. Ashley joined him, and the two of them wrapped their arms tighter around one around, the mingled sound of their shared emotional outpouring drifting up toward the rafters along with the lingering haze of smoke.


	46. Chapter 46: So Let Me Go

**A/N: NEW CHAPTER! I thought this chapter was going to be a quick tying-up-ends chapter; instead, it ended up being MASSIVE. We're almost at the end now; one more chapter after this. Hope you enjoy this one! PEACE!**

**Thank you to **see-me-clarely, AprilGilbert1996, burntrosepedals, BigRedMachineUK, Shandy777, MySweetSeduction, Guest, Viper Cena Fan, dashinginconverse **and **VanityMayhem **for your reviews! LOVE YOU! HUGS! MANY HUGS!**

* * *

Chapter 46: So Let Me Go

With one trembling arm, Randy shoved aside the black curtain, and he and Ashley stumbled into the gorilla area, the two of them bolstered on either side by Cowboy Bob, Stephanie, and several blue-shirted referees.

The small backstage space was more crowded than it would usually be at the conclusion of a pay-per-view; in addition to the usual production crew, SmackDown Superstars, Divas, referees, and road agents lined the walls, spilling out into the hallway beyond. Batista was among them, two ice bags taped around one of his massive shoulders; as the Legend Killer came into view, he lifted his hands up, bringing them together in a slow clap. Gradually, one by one, the others joined in, until the gorilla area echoed with the sounds of wordless applause.

Randy blinked, his bloodied face dull and uncomprehending. He shot a helpless glance at his father, who merely smiled and affectionately clapped him on the chest. "They're cheering for _you_, son," the Hall of Famer whispered, his drawling voice rough with emotion. "They're cheering for _you_."

The third-generation Superstar's countenance of confusion faded somewhat, and he looked over at Ashley, who leaned heavily against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. The Diva Search winner's eyes were glassy with fatigue, but she nevertheless managed to lift her head and smile at him; a smile which shone though the soot and blood on her face like sunlight through a stained glass window. Randy's features softened, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Move aside! Coming through!" Superstars either moved or were ungraciously shoved aside as two paramedics came barreling into the backstage area, carrying a stretcher behind them. They stopped in front of the couple, their eyes darting back and forth in unison as they tried to determine which one was more in need of their help. "We got a call that there was a fire," the taller one of the two finally ventured. "Someone might have been hurt-"

At Ashley's side, Stephanie stirred, grasping the rookie Diva's elbow and hustling her forward. "Here - she keeps coughing; I think she might have inhaled some smoke-" Ashley made a few faint noises of protest, but generally didn't resist as the paramedics loaded her onto the stretcher, securing her to it and hoisting it up onto its wheels.

They were in the process of fitting an oxygen mask over the Diva Search winner's face when Randy stepped forward, swaying a trifle unsteadily on his long legs. "Can I...can I ride along?"

The shorter paramedic paused, his eyes sweeping up and down the third-generation Superstar critically. "And who are _you_?"

"I'm-" The Legend Killer hesitated, his azure irises sliding past him down to Ashley. The rookie Diva stared back at him, her green-blue eyes wide and unblinking above the clear plastic cup of the oxygen mask. Randy reached over, taking her hand, feeling a indescribable current of electricity course through him as her fingers laced through his. "I'm her _boyfriend_."

As soon as he uttered those three words, Ashley's eyes widened even more, and through the plastic mask, he saw her mouth drop open in a gasp. The paramedic, completely unaware of the monumental shift occurring right in front of him, merely shrugged. "I don't see why not. We'll wait for you at the rear entrance - but don't take too long; otherwise, we'll leave without you." Nodding at his partner, the two of them wheeled the stretcher out of the gorilla area.

Randy's eyes remained locked onto Ashley's, until she and the paramedics melted into the crush of bodies and disappeared from his view. As soon as she was gone, the third-generation Superstar reeled slightly, dizziness momentarily clouding his thoughts.

His father stepped in front of him, grasping his shoulder hard enough to yank him back to the present. "I'm gonna grab you some clothes," Cowboy Bob declared. "The last thing you want to be doing is sitting in an emergency room in your trunks."

The Legend Killer nodded dumbly, still lost in the sudden absence of the Diva Search winner. A nauseous feeling had clamped down around his insides. The Hall of Famer stepped back, ducking into the evaporating crowd of people.

Randy lurched, the vacancy of his father only magnifying the sensation of sick displacement swirling within him, and just when he thought that he couldn't hold it in anymore; that he was going to drop to the ground and puke his guts out in front of God, the roster, and everyone else - a hand grabbed his arm, firm yet comforting, pulling him from the brink and drawing him fully back into the _now_.

The third-generation Superstar took a deep breath, his head clearing. Turning toward the owner of the hand, his azure irises locked onto Stephanie's pale blue ones.

For several long minutes, neither one of them spoke. Gradually, the Legend Killer averted his gaze, clearing his throat, his voice soft and penitent as he spoke. "Steph...I'm sorry-"

The Billion Dollar Princess shook her head, finger-combing her long brown hair back from her face with one hand, her delicate features oddly composed. "Don't be - _I _was the one who told you to go all the way; to do whatever you had to to get Ash back. And you _did_-"

Stephanie stopped, her calm expression faltering for an instant and revealing just a hint, a _glimpse_, of the torment she was struggling to mask. "-but I have to say that I'm glad that you stopped; that you came to your senses at the very end."

Randy said nothing; only stared guiltily at the floor like a little boy who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The former SmackDown GM coughed awkwardly. "I'd ask...how you found out...but I guess I made it pretty obvious back in Stamford-"

"What happens now?" The third-generation Superstar's voice was so quiet that she had to strain to hear him, yet so abrupt that it cut across her nervous patter like nails on a chalkboard.

Stephanie blinked, temporarily lost for words. "_Now_? Now, you get dressed and get in that ambulance-"

"Not to _me_; to _you_," The Legend Killer finally looked up, his blue eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that was unnerving. "Now that you _know_...about _him_...what happens to _you_?"

A long period of silence stretched out between them; a void of quiet that seemed to suck all of the sound out of the space despite the bustle of activity surrounding them. This time, the Billion Dollar Princess was the one to look away. "Go get dressed," the former SmackDown GM remarked quietly. "Go find Ash - she needs you now."

Stephanie looked up, a wry smile appearing on her lips. "And talk to your father, for God's sake - poor man probably thinks that I'm going to bring him up on kidnapping charges after this."

Randy stared at her a moment longer, then abruptly turned, sidling around people as he exited the gorilla area. Stephanie watched him go; it wasn't until the third-generation Superstar was utterly gone from her sight that she let her weak smile fade, reaching up with one hand to massage her temples, unable to banish Randy's final query from her head:

_Now that you know...what happens to you?_

* * *

Randy winced as the nurse dabbed the edges of his wound with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. While the slight sting wasn't even close to the punishment he'd endured, it still _hurt_, and after the events that had transpired - not just tonight, but over the past week - his body's supply of adrenaline and endorphins was all but depleted, ratcheting even the most minor aches up to acutely uncomfortable levels.

It had been at least thirty minutes since he'd last seen Ashley - as soon as the ambulance had pulled up in front of the emergency room in Providence, the physician on duty had been there to commandeer the stretcher, wheeling the Diva Search winner back into the treatment area with a cadre of scrub-wearing personnel in tow.

The Legend Killer had been forced to stay behind, but before he could slink off toward the waiting area and feign interest in a magazine, however, the nurse on duty took one look at the drying blood caked to his face and ushered him back to a curtained alcove, sitting him down so she could tend to the cut on his forehead. Randy had protested, but not very hard; he would have been forced to go through the same rigamarole with the trainer, and besides, the nurse - a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman who reminded him a little of his mother - had a gentle, efficient touch that was oddly soothing.

The third-generation Superstar's blue eyes drooped closed for a second or two. He felt drained, like a toy running on batteries that are all but depleted. Five days of living on the edge, of sleepless nights and poor appetite, compounded on top of thirty-eight minutes of pure physical and emotional hell - it was a miracle that his mind and body were still relatively in one piece.

He still couldn't believe that it was over; that the months spent looking over his shoulder and bracing himself against the next psychological attack were finally at an end. He'd always known that the war between him and the Undertaker would eventually come to an end, but somehow, he'd never imagined that its aftermath would be so..._ unremarkable_.

It didn't seem possible that he was sitting here in warmup pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, meekly allowing himself to be patched up, when less than an hour ago, he'd been screaming at the top of his lungs, dwarfed in the shadow of that massive Undertaker symbol, ready to throw the boss's daughter into the flames that surrounded it...

A brief intense shudder rippled through Randy's body, and he slowly opened his eyes, staring dully ahead at the bland blue wall decorated with body charts and informational diagrams. For the first time since his rookie days, he had no idea what he was going to do next; all he saw before him was the vast, dark ocean of uncertainty. For the first time in his career, he didn't feel like the Legend Killer...just plain, ordinary Randy Orton.

And for some reason...he was sort of fine with that.

The nurse tore the strips off a square brown Band-Aid, applying it over the wound - which hadn't needed stitches, thank God; only a few butterfly clips to hold the edges of the skin together - and then stepping back to admire her handiwork. "_Much_ better," she remarked approvingly. "Give that thing a few days to heal - and for heaven's sake, don't pick at it - and you should be back to breaking hearts in no time."

The Legend Killer forced a smile onto his face at the comment, even though he really didn't feel like smiling. His fingers stole up, tentatively grazing the rough surface of the bandage, his timid explorations producing a few faint flickers of pain. He opened his mouth to ask if, now that _he _was taken care of, someone could give him an update on the rookie Diva, when the white privacy curtain was abruptly pulled back, the metal rings clattering against the rod, and a male voice spoke: "Randy? Randy Orton?"

Randy snatched his hand away from his forehead a trifle guiltily, as though expecting to be chastised, his azure irises flicking upward and settling on the white-coated figure standing just outside the alcove. "Yes?"

The doctor, a diminutive balding man in his late fifties, consulted his clipboard - that ubiquitous prop that seemed to accompany every physician Randy had ever encountered - before flashing the third-generation Superstar a tired smile. "I'm Dr. Engel. You can see Ashley now, so if you'll just come with me-"

The Legend Killer needed no further prompting; he hopped down off the padded bench, tossing a distracted "Thanks" over his shoulder at the nurse as he followed after the doctor. The physician was almost a foot shorter than him, with a smaller stride, and it took every remaining ounce of self-control Randy still possessed not to sprint past him as they wound their way through the labyrinthine treatment area and out into one of the many nondescript corridors.

At this hour, the only sounds were the hushed murmurs of hospital personnel, the muted _beeps_ of equipment, and the squeak of their shoes against the linoleum floor. The third-generation Superstar shoved both hands into his pockets, his mouth inexplicably dry, feeling less like a twenty-five-year old adult and more like a kid as he hesitantly asked: "How...how _is_ she?"

This time, Engel didn't need to refer to his clipboard before replying. "She's doing well, considering - minor burns, mild smoke inhalation, and she's dehydrated as hell. We're giving her fluids intravenously, fitted her with an oxygen tube to aid her breathing, and we're keeping her overnight..."

The doctor stopped, either sensing the distressed look that had materialized on Randy's face, or else realizing for himself just how dire his litany of ailments sounded. He shot a comforting glance back at the Legend Killer. "Don't worry; it sounds a lot worse than it actually is. Your girlfriend's a fighter; she's already responding to treatment, and the overnight stay is just hospital procedure, so we can keep an eye on her. If she continues to improve at this rate, I can't see any reason why she shouldn't be released tomorrow."

Engel halted, so suddenly that Randy almost slammed into him. The physician turned around, fixing the third-generation Superstar with a sternly probing look. "When I asked Ashley what happened to her, she told me that it was all part of some..._wrestling event_?" His eyes narrowed, and a note of steel crept into his voice. "Pardon my language...but what the _hell_ were you all doing out there tonight?"

Randy stared at the doctor, and felt an insane urge to laugh well up inside him - not at Engel, for his ignorance, but at the sheer absurdity of the question. There were fans, probably even other Superstars, who had left that arena not knowing what exactly they had just witnessed - how could he possibly explain to _this_ man what had happened? And where should he even start?

At the beginning, when - while recovering from a concussion that had cost him his World Heavyweight title match against Triple H at the Royal Rumble - he had first conceived of the crazy notion to challenge the Deadman's undefeated streak at Wrestlemania?

At the end, during those few moments of sheer lunacy when he had come dangerously close to losing himself and tumbling over the precipice into a new kind of hell?

Or somewhere in the middle, on a Sunday afternoon at Summerslam, when he had stepped out of a hallway to feel a girl's lips inexplicably pressed against his - the moment where he had first started to feel again-

With a profound effort, the Legend Killer dragged himself back to the present, swallowing the hysterical laughter before it could burst out of him. Instead, he let his breath out in one long fatigued sigh, running one hand through his spiky brown hair as he met the physician's gaze once again. "It's...a very long story."

Engel's lips met in a thin line, and he dipped his head up and down in a curt nod. "Your girlfriend told me pretty much the same thing." His tone indicated that, while he didn't fully accept that answer, he had at least made peace with the fact that it was probably all the explanation he was ever going to get.

The pair made their way down the hall a little bit further before the doctor stopped again, this time at a door on the left side that was slightly ajar. He looked back at Randy, crossing both arms over his chest. "Technically, visiting hours are over-" The third-generation Superstar's broad shoulders noticeably slumped at this news, and Engel quickly went on. "-but she was _so_ adamant about seeing you, so...I don't see the harm in bending the rules _just this once_." The humorous lilt of his voice suggested that this wasn't the first time - or the last - he had done so.

At this, the Legend Killer visibly perked up, a hopeful grin spreading across his haggard face, and he had to stuff his hands even deeper into his pockets to keep himself from hugging the physician. "Thanks, Doc," was all he could say.

Engel's countenance sobered a touch. "Just make sure you _let her rest_. It's obvious that she's exhausted - in my professional opinion, that girl needs a good night's sleep more than anything else I could prescribe her."

_She's not the only one..._ Randy thought to himself, but he merely nodded, pressing one hand against the door and carefully pushing it open, easing his leanly muscular frame into the small private room.

The first thing he saw was Ashley, lying on a railed hospital bed, the back half slightly elevated. She was wearing one of those shapeless blue gowns that all patients wore, her long blond hair spilling down her shoulders. An IV line was anchored in the back of one hand, and there was a small clear plastic oxygen tube tucked into her nose.

Randy's heart clenched, his throat closing up as his eyes swept over her. Even though the hospital staff had done a good job of cleaning her up, the marks of the rookie Diva's ordeal were still painfully evident. The skin on her face and neck was flushed to a hot, angry-looking pink, and several strands of her golden tresses were singed. Her wrists, folded limply over her waist, still bore the red marks of rope burns - and beneath them, older and pronounced bruises that had come from more unyielding restraints, possibly handcuffs.

For an instant, the third-generation Superstar felt an instinctive reptilian impulse knife through him once more - the need for vengeance, _retribution_. But just as rapidly, he tamped down on it, forcing it back to the farthest regions of his subconscious. It was over between him and the Phenom. _Over_.

The Diva Search winner's eyes were closed; at the sound of the door opening, she lifted her lids, and the Legend Killer felt an entirely new kind of spasm seize his heart at seeing those beautiful blue-green irises light up at the sight of him. "Hey," Ashley whispered, her voice hoarse and raw.

Randy couldn't speak; just knowing that the rookie Diva was _here_, _safe_, and within his reach had sent him to a place where words were impossible. Ashley's smile drooped a bit. "That bad, huh?"

The third-generation Superstar slowly shook his head, a smile - real and heartbreaking and so big that it threatened to split his face at the seams - appearing on his handsome features. "No..." he finally managed to whisper. "If anything...you're the best thing I've seen all week."

Behind him, the door _clicked_ shut as Engel decorously pulled it closed, giving the two of them total privacy. Swallowing hard, Randy walked over to the bed, afraid that - at any moment - his knees were going to completely give way and send him tumbling down to the floor. He stared down at the Diva Search winner, drinking her in with his eyes the way a thirsty man imbibes a tall glass of cool water. Leaning down almost reverently, he placed a soft kiss on her mouth. "How are you feeling?"

As soon as the question passed his lips, Randy wanted to punch himself in the face, because it was the most pointlessly stupid thing he could have said. Some of that consternation must have shown on his expression, because a wry smile touched the corners of Ashley's mouth. "Like I've been tanning too long and deep-throating a charred log," the rookie Diva replied. "How about you?"

Her remark was so unexpected and yet so completely _Ashley_ that the Legend Killer couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing. Ashley joined him, although her giggles soon gave way to another uncontrollable coughing fit.

Randy's laughter ceased, eclipsed by concern. "Ash? Are you all right?"

The Diva Search winner waved both hands. "I'm fine," she managed to say between coughs. "It's just-" Her choking spasms refused to ebb, however, and her face flushed bright red with exertion.

The third-generation Superstar desperately looked around, eventually spying a pitcher of ice water on a nearby table. Grabbing it and pouring some into a plastic cup, he held the rim of it to Ashley's lips, cradling the back of her head with his other hand. "Here, drink." he commanded. "Slowly."

The rookie Diva obeyed, and gradually her flow of coughing slowed, then stopped altogether. After consuming about half of the liquid in the cup, she sagged back against the pillow, drawing in a deep labored breath. "Ow. Remind me not to do _that_ again." She flashed him a weak pained smile. "Sorry about that."

Randy carefully set the plastic cup back on the table next to the pitcher. "I just thought of something - maybe this will help." He kicked off his sneakers, and before Ashley could respond, the Legend Killer climbed into the hospital bed next to her.

The Diva Search winner let out a surprised squawk. "Randy! What are you _doing_-"

"Relax," the third-generation Superstar murmured soothingly. "I'll get up if the nurse comes in. Besides..." He reached over, tenderly pushing back a lock of singed blond hair that had fallen across Ashley's face. "...I just want to _hold _you."

The rookie Diva made no further protests, and as Randy pulled her into his arms - taking care not to disturb the IV or oxygen lines - he heard a soft contented sigh escape them both. Ashley pressed her face against his neck, her hands resting on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

For the longest time, neither one of them said anything, both content to do little more than hold and be held; to drink in the nearness of one another. Finally, Ashley stirred. "Randy..." The third-generation Superstar could feel her voice vibrating against his skin. "'Taker-"

At the mention of his adversary, the Legend Killer tensed, involuntarily tightening his hold on the Diva Search winner. "Shh..." he whispered in her hair. "You don't need to talk about him-"

"No, let me finish." Ashley insisted. ""Taker...he told me a lot of things...when he had me-" Randy felt a slight shudder go through her, and the rookie Diva continued. "He was trying to break me...but one thing he kept saying was that...you were a coward." Another small shiver. "That...given the choice...between you and me...you would choose yourself."

Randy bit his lip, tears springing to his eyes. He hesitated for a second, inhaling the warm clean scent rising off Ashley's skin before answering: "Ash-"

"But you _didn't_." The Diva Search winner wriggled a little in his embrace, pulling back so that she could look him in the face. There were tears glistening in her blue-green gaze as well. "You _had_ the choice...and you chose _me_. You _sacrificed_ yourself...your _match..._for _me_."

The third-generation Superstar stared at her, feeling his throat swell shut with emotion. "It was the only way," he managed to say. "I couldn't let him hurt you...and I couldn't face winning - not if it meant-" His voice cracked. "Ash, I'm _sorry_ - I'm so sorry that I couldn't beat him-"

"_But you did_," the rookie Diva whispered. "Don't you get it? You _did _beat him." Her simple declaration shocked the Legend Killer into silence. Ashley reached up, touching his face, her fingertips lightly caressing his skin. "'Taker won the match...but tonight, _you_ proved that _you're_ the better man." She ran her fingers over his lips. "The man I love."

Grabbing her hand, Randy pulled her to him, sealing her mouth in another kiss - a _real_ one this time, hard and intense and passionate. When the two of them finally broke apart for air, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I _love_ you," the Legend Killer murmured fiercely.

"I love you, too," Ashley whispered. Snuggling closer to Randy, she closed her eyes, her slender body slumping with a soft exhalation of breath as she fell asleep. A minute later, the third-generation Superstar joined her, drifting off into the nothingness of his first real slumber in a very long time...

* * *

Trish sat on one of the cushioned benches in the waiting room area, head leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed. Maria lay next to her, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head pillowed on the Women's Champion's lap like that of a small child. Mickie sat on the floor at her feet, her legs crossed Indian-style, a open issue of Cosmopolitan in front of her that she was studying with only a modicum of absorption.

Trish hadn't been the only Raw Diva at the SmackDown pay-per-view; the other two had been at the Dunkin Donuts Center as well. The trio had been crammed together on a bench in the women's locker room, watching wordlessly with their arms linked, when the Hell in a Cell match had crossed the line from brutal into "What the fuck" territory.

They couldn't manage to fight their way through the panicked crush of Superstars and production personnel filling the hallways after the bout ended quick enough to see Ashley before she had been loaded into the ambulance, so the three Divas had piled into Maria's car and driven across town like fury to the hospital, taking several wrong turns and getting lost in the process.

When they had finally tumbled into the emergency room, they were informed - not unsympathetically - by the nurse at the front desk that visiting hours were over and the best thing for all of them to do would be to let their friend sleep. Seeing the logic in this, but unwilling to concede defeat totally, Trish instead announced that the trio would be camping in the waiting room; all night, if necessary.

Mickie turned a page, vaguely aware that she had just read the same article three times and _still_ didn't know what it was about. Her butt had fallen asleep from sitting on the floor; the brunette Diva wiggled back and forth a little, trying to work some feeling back into her posterior.

As she did, the automated front doors to the emergency room slid back with a soft _hiss_ of hydraulics. Mickie looked up perfunctorily, more out of reflex than any sort of interest, slid her gaze back to her magazine...then looked up again, executing a genuine double take at the lone figure who had just stepped in.

The brunette Diva's brown eyes narrowed with sharp awareness. "Shit..." she muttered under her breath. Without tearing her gaze from the new arrival, she elbowed Trish in the leg. The Women's Champion sat up with a start, looking around, her confusion giving way to wariness when she saw what Mickie had called her attention to.

Bobbing her knee slightly to rouse Maria, she rose to her feet, taking a few cautious strides forward, the other two following suit and flanking her on either side.

Matt Hardy looked around, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, his body language and countenance exuding helplessness. His swollen face instantly lit up with recognition as his gaze settled on the three Divas, and he made a beeline toward them.

Trish swallowed hard as the elder Hardy brother drew nearer. Either Matt was coming over to them because they were the only familiar faces in the vicinity - or because, perhaps more accurately, he thought that he could sweet-talk them into letting him see Ashley. Either way, there was no way in _hell_ that the Women's Champion was letting him past her.

Matt halted in front of the three women. Trish tilted her chin up, peering at the SmackDown Superstar suspiciously. "What do you want, Matt?" she asked. She kept her voice low, so as not to alert the nurse at the front desk - she didn't want to involve the hospital staff unless it became absolutely necessary.

The elder Hardy brother didn't answer; only shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet. Trish pressed her full lips together into a thin hard line, her green eyes glinting like chips of ice. "You've got some fucking nerve," she whispered harshly. "Coming here - after what you did-"

"Don't worry," Matt's voice was soft and measured, his Southern drawl adding a musical lilt to the words. His dark irises had been trained on the floor, but now they flicked upward, focusing on the Canadian beauty. "I didn't come here to see her."

Trish crossed her arms over her chest, her expression unwavering. The elder Hardy brother took a deep breath. "Just tell her that I'm sorry...for everything..." He paused, and the Women's Champion realized that the sniveling, self-pitying whiner she had confronted back at the arena was gone. In his place was a man - a wounded, flawed man, to be sure, but one who, for the first time, was willing to hold himself accountable for his actions. "...and that I won't bother her anymore."

Without another word, or even waiting for a response, he turned around, leaving the trio of stunned Divas in his wake, the doors sliding back with another sibilant _hiss _as he exited out into the night.

* * *

Stephanie slumped against the wall, sliding down to the floor, for once not caring about the dirt and wrinkles that such a motion was no doubtably going to leave on her expensive black suit. It had taken forever for her to find a section of the Dunkin Donuts Center that was completely and utterly deserted - every turn seemed to bring her face-to-face with some new individual who required her attention - but she had done it, and now that she was alone, she was going to take advantage of every second of her newfound solitude.

The Billion Dollar Princess's face crumpled, and she began to cry; loud, ugly, gasping sobs that stole her breath and pulled her insides into painful knots. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her neck, dampening the collar of her blouse. The former SmackDown GM wept, not just for what had happened; the emotional ordeal that all of them had endured out in the ring, but for the past - a past that only she had lost, and therefore a past that only she was allowed to mourn.

"What happens to me now?" she whispered to herself, morosely echoing the Legend Killer's words. "What _does_ happen?"

An icy chill swept across her skin like fingertips, prickling it up into goosebumps, making the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Stephanie froze, her sobs dying away into shallow gulps of breath; looking up, she saw the shadows in the darkened alcove beside her coalesce, forming something more substantial than shade; not a man, but a _presence_ that seemed to expand and contract with a life all its own.

The Billion Dollar stared at it, still choking down breath, her pretty face already swollen and blotchy from crying. "I know you're there." There was no fear in her voice; only a mixture of bitterness and dull regret. There was no response from the void. A note of annoyance crept into the former SmackDown GM's tone. "_Well_? Aren't you even going to say anything?"

Still no answer. Stephanie looked away, a humorless smile touching her mouth. "Of course not - that's not who you are. You'll torture your opponents to death, but when it's the ones you care about, you don't say a word-"

The Billion Dollar Princess looked away, pushing her hair back from her face with both hands. "But that's okay, because I don't need you to talk - I need you to listen while _I _talk. Is that all right?"

There was no change or reply from the darkened void, but the former SmackDown GM barreled on ahead anyway. "When you challenged my father to a Buried Alive match, everyone thought it was because of what he did to you...but I was the only one who knew...it was because of what he did to _me _- all the things he did to force me out of my job, even making me wrestle a match against him at No Mercy."

Stephanie paused, taking a deep breath. "You weren't fighting for yourself; you were fighting for _me_...so maybe that's why...when it all went wrong...I blamed myself-"

She ducked her head, pressed her forehead against her knees, her voice halting as she recalled the memory. "When that load of dirt fell on you, they actually had to restrain me - did you know that? One of the road agents - I think it was Arn Anderson - had to grab me with both arms to keep me from running out there and shoveling you out myself." Fresh tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision. "When you died..._I _died...and in all the months that followed, I went through life in a fog - I couldn't _feel_, I couldn't _function-_"

The Billion Dollar Princess shook her head briskly, brushing the tears away with a quick flick of her fingertips. "But then the signs started - the signs that-" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "-that _the Undertaker_ was still alive. And part of me was elated when I heard that...but the other part of me was doubtful, because I knew that you'd be _different_, _have to be_ different - you can't come back from the dead unchanged."

The same bitter smile came and went on her lips. "And then you _did_ come back, and you _were_ different, but I still never lost hope - hope that the man I knew, the man I _loved_, was still in there somewhere, _waiting_-"

The former SmackDown GM stopped, drawing in a breath that was more like a sob. "When I looked into that cage, I saw _you_, not the Undertaker. But then...when Randy had me...I looked back at the Cell...and all I saw was the Deadman." Her full lips trembled. "You kidnapped Ashley, you pushed Randy to a point where he was ready to throw me into the flames-" She looked up, peering into the blackness. "Would you even have _saved_ me if he did...or would you have let me burn along with Ashley, just so you could _prove a point_?"

There was no answer; not that she had really been expecting one. Stephanie slowly shook her head. "You don't know either...do you? That's my point!" Groping at the wall with one hand, she awkwardly pulled herself to her feet. "I used to think that you were dead, and that was _awful_, but now I know that the truth is even worse - that you're _alive _in there...but you need the Undertaker to survive."

The Billion Dollar Princess bowed her head, sniffing. "And as long as that's the case...as long as you need him...I can't be with you."

Almost immediately, the edges of the void began to shudder with visible agitation. Stephanie's lithe frame shook, but she nonetheless held her ground. "I _can't_! Don't you understand? I loved a man named Mark Calaway, _not_ the Undertaker. Mark...he put the darkness aside, but _you_ - you embrace it. It sustains you. It's who you are on the inside now. Sometimes, you're _you_, but more often, you're _him_, and I can't _live _with that, I _can't_-"

The former SmackDown GM stopped, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth as she struggled to hold herself together. Her pale blue eyes were fixed to the stained concrete floor. "I can't spend my life...drowning in the memory of you and I."

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her tears blurring the shadows to dim smudges. "You came back from the dead...because you loved me...because your feelings for me were stronger than death. So prove it to me - prove that some part of you, part of _Mark_, survived the journey."

Stephanie's jaw quivered, but she barely hesitated on her next words: "Prove it...by letting me go." Another brief pause. "Leave my head, stop haunting my thoughts - stop _holding on _and just let me live my life."

Silence from the blackness. The Billion Dollar Princess inched back a step, her mouth turning down at the corners as she tried to rein in her tears. "_Please_..." she whispered. "_Please, Mark...just let me go_."

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, the sole of her pump scraping against the floor. As she did, she felt a brief combination of sensations - the strong light pressure of arms wrapped around her; a hint of familiar cologne; a _voice, _strained and gasping, as though it was being summoned up from the very air around her-

_Stephanie_...

The former SmackDown GM whipped around with a gasp. "Mark?"

But there was nothing behind her. The alcove was as dark as before, but the odd coalescence of shadows had dissipated, and there was no unconscious responses - no prickling of the skin or tingling of the senses - to indicate someone else was there.

The Billion Dollar Princess took a step forward, and then abruptly sagged against the wall as a sudden overwhelming lightness filled her head. At first, she thought it was just a dizzy spell, but as the seconds ticked by, she gradually realized that it wasn't the _presence_ of something so much as the _absence _of something else - as though as some sentient entity inside her mind she had never ever known existed had suddenly sprouted wings and vacated her skull.

And it was at that moment that Stephanie understood that she was now really and truly _alone._

Sinking down to her knees, the former SmackDown GM began to cry once more.


	47. Chapter 47: For You I Will

**A/N: I'm feeling really emotional; the stretch of time I spent writing Everything You Can Never Be is the longest time I ever spent on a story (over 4 years) and right now, I'm in shock that it's finally over. I want to thank everyone who got behind this story as much as they did; this fic started out as a few images in my head and a smattering of plot, so I'm STILL stunned when people tell me that it's their favorite story on the site. For all those who read, reviewed, favorited, alerted, etc. - THANK YOU. Your support means more to me than you will ever know, and I am honored that I was able to write something that you found so enjoyable. ****What's next? Well, I've got some stories I'm still working on, one I've just started, and another in the pipeline in the near future. But I'm always looking for new ideas, so feel free to message me or stalk me on Twitter, lol.**

**A/A/N: I included the song lyric because (as you can probably see) it's where I got the title for this fic, as well as a lot of inspiration.**

**Thank you to **Guest, AprilGilbert1996, Shandy777, Hellokitty, MySweetSeduction, BigRedMachineUK, VanityMayhem, Viper Cena Fan, no serenity, heather mae, **and **see-me-clarely **for reviewing! I LOVE and ADORE you all! THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. PEACE!**

**-Katelyn, aka "DarkAngelElektra"**

* * *

Chapter 47: For You I Will

"_And all you really need/Is everything you can never be/And so you'd give it all for a miracle..." - Vertical Horizon, "Miracle"_

Ashley slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times as her vision gradually adjusted to the weak light. She didn't know where she was at first - the small, sterile space, its bare white walls gleaming in the pale gray radiance of early morning, didn't seem like her bedroom; the thin mattress beneath her slender frame didn't feel like her bed - but as the rookie Diva drew in her first breath and felt that familiar painful pressure in her chest, like there was a large cat sitting on her sternum, the events of the previous night came back to her, flickering across her vision like a series of vivid still images.

Darkness giving way to flames...the overwhelming heat and smoke...the fear and panic crawling up her throat...the chaotic aftermath...and throughout it all, like a watermark stamped on the pages of her memory, _Randy_ - his arms enveloping her body, his hand gripping hers, his voice in her ears; sometimes a shout-

_Me for her! ME FOR HER! Take me and let Ash go!_

-and sometimes a whisper-

_I couldn't let him hurt you...and I couldn't face winning - not if it meant-_

_ -_but always there, _always_...just like his feelings for her.

_I love you..._

With effort, the Diva Search winner rolled over onto her back, sinking against the pillow. She pressed one hand to her forehead, the other stealing over to longingly graze the empty space next to her on the mattress.

She had known that the Legend Killer was gone before she had even opened her eyes; her first coherent observation upon returning to wakefulness had been the absence of his embrace. In a way, it wasn't all that different from the morning after Survivor Series - but unlike then, Ashley felt no doubt, no self-recrimination, no panic; only a blanketing sensation of peace and tranquility.

Partially because of all the painkillers still bouncing around her system - but mostly because...she knew that, _this time_, he was coming back.

The door opened, and the rookie Diva quickly snatched her hand back, yanking the bedcovers decorously up to her chest. Dr. Engel poked his head in, a warm smile lighting up his lined face. "How are we feeling this morning?"

Ashley weakly returned the grin, even though doing so sent discomfort flickering across her burned skin. "Alive." she croaked.

The physician chuckled softly. "Always encouraging to hear." He pushed the door open wider, walking over to where Ashley lay. He pressed a button on the side of the bed, and there was a low hum of machinery as the top half elevated the Diva Search winner up into a sitting position. "So, let's have a look at you, then..."

He went through the usual succession of medical assessments - pressing a stethoscope against her chest to check her heart and breathing, strapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm, popping a thermometer into her mouth to record her temperature - all the while keeping up a cheerful patter of conversation that managed to be pleasantly entertaining without requiring much input from her.

It wasn't until Engel had her wrist between his thumb and forefinger, looking at his watch as he gauged her pulse, that Ashley finally cleared her throat. "So...Doc...any word on when I can leave? I mean, you guys are nice and all, but-"

The doctor laughed again. "It's all right; I don't blame you for wanting to get out of here." He tucked his hands into the big pockets of his white lab coat, studying her with a look that was both warm and appraising. "I'm going to prescribe you an ointment for your burns, and I recommend that you take it easy over the next week - stay out of the sun, don't exert yourself too much - but other than that..." He paused, his critical expression fading and another smile taking its place. "...I see no reason why you can't be discharged this morning."

This time, Ashley couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face. "Really?" she exclaimed eagerly. "That's _awesome_-"

Engel nodded approvingly. "I _thought_ that would perk you up. I'll notify the nurse; tell her to get the paperwork ready. Oh, and by the way-" The physician hesitated for a moment, leaning down and lowering his voice to a more conspiratorial level. "-that boyfriend of yours? Randy? I think he's a keeper."

Ashley couldn't talk for a moment; just hearing the third-generation Superstar's name caused her throat to swell shut with emotion. _You have no idea..._the rookie Diva thought to herself, but what she managed to say instead was: "Yeah...yeah, he is."

Engel straightened up, clearing his throat. "Well...I should get back to my rounds." He headed for the door, then stopped, looking back over his shoulder. "One more thing-" The Diva Search winner stared at him expectantly. The doctor went on. "You have some visitors - technically, it's a tad early, but you're doing much better, and they were _so _adamant about seeing you-"

Ashley opened her mouth to ask who "they" could possibly be, but before she could do so, the door burst open all the way, and Trish, Maria, and Mickie came barreling into the room like a blond-and-brunette tornado, all three squealing in excitement.

The Diva Search winner let out a surprised squeak as the trio engulfed her in a three-way hug. "Oof! Easy there, girls - I can't _breathe_-" Her tone was half-joking, however, and the triad gradually pulled back, arranging themselves along one side of the bed.

Maria wedged herself between Trish and Mickie, hopping up onto the edge of the mattress. "Here! We got this for you!" She thrust both arms toward Ashley; nestled in them was a stuffed dinosaur, bearing a goofy cartoon grin and a heart with the words: "RAWR! GET WELL SOON!" printed on it.

Ashley was unable to repress a giggle at the sight of the plush toy. "Aw, thanks! I love it!" She accepted the stuffed animal, carefully tucking it next to her before glancing back up at her fellow Raw Divas. "Don't tell me...that you were here all night-"

The Women's Champion shrugged. "It wasn't _that _bad-"

"-the nurse at the front desk gave us pillows and blankets-" Mickie interjected enthusiastically.

"-besides, I've spent the night in _worse_ places, _believe me_." the Canadian beauty finished, cutting off her brunette protegee forcefully, but not impolitely.

She fell silent, and in the void of quiet that followed, Ashley felt the emotional tension in the room ratchet up a few levels. The other Divas must have sensed it too, because their elated countenances sobered a touch. Trish averted her gaze, coughing awkwardly. "Ash...I wanted to tell you..."

She looked up, her emerald irises locking onto Ashley's blue-green ones with a sincerity that was painful to behold. "...I'm _so sorry_-"

"It doesn't matter," the rookie Diva heard herself say, the sound of her voice seeming to come from miles away. She forced her lips upward into a smile, but only because the alternative was to burst into tears. "It's okay-"

"No, it's _not_!" The last syllable burst out of the Women's Champion with the force of an explosion. Her expression, so happy a moment ago, was now etched with misery. "The things that I _said_, that I _did_-"

"-you did because you thought it was the right thing," Ashley interrupted softly. "We all did." With effort, she sat up fully, reaching out to grasp Trish's hand. "I was just like you - I was _so angry_ - but I'm not now, because it doesn't matter." She squeezed the Canadian beauty's fingers emphatically. "_None of it_ matters now."

Trish didn't answer; merely sucked in a choked breath that was more like a sob - but Ashley felt the Women's Champion's fingers return the grip just as vehemently.

The Diva Search winner let out her breath slowly, slumping back against the pillow, her gaze moving from one Diva to another. "So...any of you know where Randy is?"

Trish, her composure now restored somewhat, glanced at Mickie and Maria, but was met with identical head shakes and shrugs. She shifted her gaze back toward Ashley, lifting up her shoulders as well. "He was really vague - just said that he'd be back later; there was something that he needed to take care of." A small line appeared between the Canadian beauty's eyebrows as her forehead creased in the tiniest of frowns. "I told him if he even _thought_ about abandoning you here, I'd kick his fucking ass-"

"I didn't doubt it," All four Divas jumped, turning toward the door at the sound of the Legend Killer's deep timbre. Randy leaned against the doorframe, one hand behind his back, a wry half-smile on his handsome face. "That was one of the reasons I came back."

In spite of herself, Ashley felt a flirtatious smile slip over her features. "And the other?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

At this, Randy's azure gaze fell fully on her, his playful smirk deepening into a meaningful warm smile, and the rookie Diva felt her stomach do a somersault, a slow blush creeping all the way up to the roots of her hair and making her burned skin tingle. "Mmmm..." the third-generation Superstar murmured. "Do you really have to ask?"

Slowly, with the same languid grace that he exhibited when walking down to the ring, the Legend Killer walked over to the bed, the bevy of Raw Divas immediately parting to let him through. Randy sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning down to seal Ashley's mouth in a brief, intense kiss. "Mornin', gorgeous," he whispered, and the Diva Search winner felt her face burn even hotter.

The former World Heavyweight Champion pulled back, staring into her eyes for a moment before pulling his other arm out from around his back to lay a bouquet wrapped in green paper across her lap. "These are for you..."

"Hey, way to show us up!" Maria exclaimed, but there was no real indignation or accusation in her tone.

Ashley tentatively peeled back a corner of the paper. Almost immediately, she let out a gasp - inside were roses; at least a dozen, their petals that familiar vivid magenta that was more of a indicator of Randy's thoughtfulness than the traditional red or white. The rookie Diva looked up, tears already brimming at her lower lashes.

Trish, perhaps sensing that now would be the opportune time to make a discreet exit, cleared her throat meaningfully, nodding at the other two Divas. "C'mon, you two - let's leave these two alone and go see if we can find some kind of edible breakfast in this place. But _you_-" She jabbed her index finger at Ashley, her green eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. "-don't you _dare_ leave here without saying goodbye. You hear?"

The Diva Search winner nodded absently, even though she barely heard the Women's Champion - all of her focus had been absorbed by the Legend Killer's presence - it wasn't until she heard the door close that she realized they were gone.

As soon as they were, Randy shifted a little on the thin mattress, inching closer to her. He looked away for a instant, a sudden seriousness appearing on his countenance. Looking at him, Ashley felt her smile fade, her insides contracting into a small hard knot of anticipatory tension. "What?" she asked, her voice belying her uncertainty. "Randy, what is it?"

The third-generation Superstar took a deep breath, his blue eyes coming back to rest on her. "I got a call this morning...while I was out." He paused. "From Stephanie."

At the mention of the Billion Dollar Princess, the rookie Diva felt her stomach clench even more, but she said nothing. Randy continued. "She told me...that after last night...after what you and I have been through over the last week...she decided to give both of us some time off. Clear our heads, recharge our batteries - get all of..._this_...out of our systems before we come back to the ring."

The Legend Killer hesitated again, and this time, Ashley glimpsed a flash of nervousness in his face, softening his features and making him appear like a little kid. "So as soon as I got off the phone, I went to the airport and..." His voice faltered, and after a moment or two of helpless silence, he dug in his back jeans pocket instead, pulling out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to the Diva Search winner.

Ashley slowly opened it, her insides were so full of expectant butterflies that for several indeterminable seconds, she had no idea what she was looking at. Eventually, though, her senses cleared, and she realized that the printed page in her hands was a printed airline boarding pass.

The rookie Diva scanned the paper carefully, still uncomprehending. Upon closer examination, two items leapt out at her. The first was that the name on the boarding pass was her own: ASHLEY MASSARO.

The second was the destination abbreviation: STL.

_ St. Louis_.

Ashley heard a shaky gasp escape her throat, and she pressed one hand against her mouth, the paper slipping from her fingers and fluttering down to her lap. She looked up sharply, her blue-green eyes wet with unshed tears and wordless astonishment.

Randy reached over, taking her hand, his fingers lacing through hers, his jaw quivering slightly as he spoke. "After everything I did...everything I put you through...the last thing I want...is to say goodbye all over again. I don't want to go back home...unless you're there with me." Still Ashley said nothing - not intentionally; words were still beyond her at this point - and as the silence stretched on, the former World Heavyweight Champion's hopeful demeanor floundered a little bit. "But then...if you really don't _want _to-"

Whatever he meant to say next was cut off as the Diva Search winner suddenly sat up, wrapping both arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely. Randy was startled, but only for an instant; in the next, he slipped his muscular arms around her slender body, returning the embrace.

Ashley bit her lip. "Of _course_ I'll go with you," she murmured. A tear slipped free, working its way down her cheek, and she pressed her face against his neck. "Thank you..." She tried to add something else, but further eloquence was beyond her, and so she merely echoed her previous sentiment. "Thank you..."

For what seemed like a blissful eternity, the two of them remained there, holding one another. Finally, Ashley pulled back, reaching over to take Randy's hands in hers. Her eyes flicked up to meet his; there was a devilish glint simmering in their blue-green depths that hadn't been there before. The Legend Killer frowned slightly. "What?"

Ashley shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing...just..." She paused long enough to remove her oxygen tube, setting it aside before turning back to him. "...how much trouble do you think we get into..."

With one hand, she took hold of Randy's shirt, tugging him gently toward her until their mouths were almost touching. Ashley's lips parted, her tongue darting out to graze his lower lip. "...before the nurse comes in to check on me?"

* * *

Ashley stood in front of the sink, running her hands idly under the flow of water streaming from the faucet. She had been officially discharged from the hospital's care, and after dining on a decidedly unappetizing breakfast courtesy of the facility, Randy had brought her suitcase by, allowing her to make a much-needed change from the hospital gown into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.

The Diva Search winner shut off the faucet, drying her hands on a paper towel before pausing to critically examine her reflection in the small bathroom mirror. Her face was still bright pink from its close proximity to the flames, and several of her golden tresses were beyond saving - perhaps she should use her imminent time off to find a new shorter hair style.

But it was more than that - the image staring back at her was a far cry from the naive little punk girl from New York who had won the 2005 Raw Diva Search, and in a way that had nothing to do with singed hair or burnt skin. There was a different light in her eyes now; harder, _older_ - a newly minted glint of steely experience and endurance that would make the Candice Michelles and the Torrie Wilsons and the Litas of the world think twice before targeting her for torment.

_Randy wasn't the only one who went to hell and back..._the rookie Diva thought to herself. _Since coming to the WWE, I've walked through fire. Literally. I've been through more in the last four months than most Superstars go through in four YEARS... _

She pushed up one of her sleeves, staring dully at the restraint marks marring her wrist. ..._and I've got the scars to prove it._

With one finger, she traced one of the older, purplish bruises, where the rings of handcuffs had bit into her skin. Instantly, unwanted memories welled upward - _darkness, the stink of fear, sentient shadow lurking at her back _- and the Diva Search winner began to shake uncontrollably, grabbing onto the edges of the sink as she struggled to remain upright.

Her sleep the previous night had been dark and dreamless, but that didn't mean that the nightmares were behind her completely. The Undertaker had done more than kidnap her body - he had violated her _mind_, and _those_ marks went far deeper than any of the ones on the surface. There was no telling how long it would take for the taint of his influence to fade...or if it ever would.

Ashley's fingers tightened on the sink, her fingernails clicking against the porcelain. Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting her reflection's gaze in the silvery surface of the mirror. She took a deep breath, let it out, took another, let it out - and with each exhalation of oxygen, she forced out her feelings of fear, paralysis, _dread_.

The Deadman had pushed her to the brink...but not _over_ it. He had put her through hell, but in doing so, had hardened the most resilient parts of herself until they were more unyielding than diamond. She had been beaten, but not _broken_, and so she would fight, kick, _claw_ her way back if necessary, because if she could survive_ this_...she could survive _anything_.

Ashley straightened up, her blue-green irises still fixed on those of her mirror image, her expression icily resolute.. She was not going to waste any more time dwelling on this; right now, the only thing that mattered - the only thing that had _ever_ mattered...was Randy.

"You ready?"

Ashley started a little as Randy materialized in the doorway. "Almost." She quickly ran both hands through her long hair, combing it back from her face before turning to favor the Legend Killer with a smile. "_Now_ I am."

Randy returned the grin, stepping to the side and allowing the rookie Diva to exit the tiny bathroom. Ashley paused by the now-empty hospital bed, hugging herself and rubbing her upper arms briskly. She had been wearing her coat when she had been taken by the Phenom - no doubt it was still somewhere in his basement dungeon, never to be seen again. _The Undertaker owes me a new winter coat..._ the Diva Search mused, and had to bite her lips to stifle the insane laughter that burbled up at the thought.

She heard the third-generation Superstar come up behind her, and a second, felt the weight of fabric as he draped his coat over her shoulder. "Here - put this on. It's cold outside." Genuinely touched by the gesture, Ashley didn't protest, but instead slipped her arms through the sleeves, turning around to face Randy.

The Legend Killer took hold of the open ends of the coat, gently tugging her toward him. With both hands, he carefully freed her long blond-and-black tresses so that they once more spilled over her shoulders and down her back.

The Diva Search winner gazed up at him, a playful smile touching the corners of her mouth. "This reminds me...of the first time we met." She cocked her head to the side. "I was cold...and you gave me your shirt-"

"I was trying to protect your dignity," Randy replied, his tone lightly teasing. "I remember saying-"

"-that it looked better on me than you." the rookie Diva finished.

Randy's mouth curved upward in a grin. "I wasn't lying, you know? Seeing you in that oversized "R.K.O" shirt was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I remember that all I wanted to do was kiss you again-" To punctuate his statement, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a kiss before drawing back and gazing into her eyes once more.

His smile faltered for a moment. "But I didn't...because I was scared."

Ashley drew in her breath slowly, unable to tear her focus away from those intense azure irises. "But not anymore...right?"

The former World Heavyweight Champion leaned in until his forehead touched hers. "No..." he whispered after a long moment had passed. "Not anymore."

The Diva Search winner's expression sobered, and she pulled back, gazing up into the Legend Killer's face. "Randy...what happens now...to _us_, I mean?"

She pressed both hands against his broad chest, her full lips trembling slightly as she spoke. "Don't...don't push me away again. Okay? No matter what the reason...not even if you think you're protecting me - because being without you is worse than _anything_." Her voice broke, but she went on bravely. "If you want to be with me, then _be with me_ because I _love _you, _so much_-"

Randy pressed his fingertips against her lips, silencing her; when he eventually did speak, his voice was thick and hoarse with emotion. "There's an old saying: when you save someone's life, you're responsible for them - they're a part of your life whether you want them to be or not."

The third-generation Superstar sucked in a deep breath before going on. "So if _that's_ true...well, then, you're stuck with me, because even though you say that _I _saved _you_ - the truth is..._you_ saved _me_."

At this, Ashley's face crumpled, tears rolling down her face one by one. For a moment, it looked as though Randy might join her, but he nevertheless continued, even as his deep tone began to crack. "Meeting you...was the best thing that ever happened to me." He took her hand in both of his, pressing it against the spot where his heart lay. "I can feel my heart beat...for _you_, because _you_ brought me back to life, because _you_ made me real. And the only thing I regret is that I wasted so much time; that I pushed you away instead of telling from the first moment that you were _perfect_, you were _always perfect_-"

The Legend Killer looked away for a heartbeat, a tear slipping down his cheek and falling silently to the floor. Composing himself, he glanced back at the crying Diva Search winner. "All I want...is _you_. The only place I want to be...is where _you_ are." He swallowed hard. "I love you, Ashley."

Ashley took a deep breath, trying to talk through the tears of overwhelming happiness threatening to envelop her. "I love you, too, Randy."

A tender smile appeared on the Legend Killer's face, and he pulled her into another kiss, both passionate and achingly tender, lifting her off the ground as he embraced her. Ashley returned it, wrapping her legs around his waist as she kissed him back, while outside the sun rose higher in the sky, its warm clean light and heat pouring through the window and surrounding the embracing couple.

**THE END**


End file.
